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THE EARNEST STUDENT; 

EEISG 

MEMORIALS OF JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



EY THE 

RE Y. NORMAN MACLEOD, 

MINISTER OF THE BARO>*T PARTSH, GLASGOW. 




EDINBURGH : THOMAS CONSTABLE AND CO. 
HAMILTON, ADAMS, AND CO., LONDON 
MDCCCLIV. 



EDINBURGH : T. CONSTABLE, PRINTER TO HER MAJESTY. 



i 



DEDICATED 



MRS. MACKINTOSH OP GEDDES, 



"his mother and mine." 



PREFACE. 



A short time after the death of John Mackintosh I 
received the following communication : — 

"The Rev. Norman Macleod, 

16, Woodland Terrace, Glasgow. 

" Eev. and Dear Sir, — Ever since it pleased God to 
remove our dear friend, John Mackintosh, and to deprive 
us of his living example, counsels, and affectionate com- 
panionship, we have cherished the hope that a Memoir of 
him would be drawn up, with liberal extracts from his 
Journals and Correspondence, by which, though dead, he 
might yet speak to us. We understand that private 
diaries and memoranda of much interest exist, and that a 
large collection of letters might easily be made, breathing 
his beautiful and affectionate spirit, and full of sage re- 
flections, and advice, and deep Christian experience. 

" Believing that you have ready access to these mate- 
rials, and feeling confident that in no hands could the task 
of weaving them into the form of a Memoir be more ex- 



viii 



PREFACE. 



cellently performed, we respectfully urge you to overcome 
the feelings of delicacy which may prevent you and his 
other relatives from contemplating a publication in con- 
nexion with his memory. We assure you that such a 
collection as we have ventured to suggest, with a Sketch 
from your pen of his character and life, especially the 
deeply interesting details which you have the power to 
give of his last illness, would not only form to us a pre- 
cious Memorial of our departed friend, but would be valued 
by us as containing much on which we should wish to 
dwell, and often refer to for our own instruction, example, 
and encouragement through life. 

" We speak not only for ourselves, but for a large circle 
of those who were more or less intimately acquainted with 
Mackintosh, and all of whom we feel confident will re-echo 
what we now say, and would sign this letter with us if 
convenience permitted. 

" We urge, further, that this work, while we desire to 
see it in the most modest form it can assume — the more 
truly to answer to the character of him it commemorates 
— should be given to the public. 

" It seems to us very desirable that the Christian testi- 
mony of one of such sound judgment and consistent cha- 
racter should be brought to the knowledge of many beyond 
his own personal friends. 

" There is no book we more earnestly desire to have the 
power of putting into the hands of the young in whom we 
feel an interest ; and of generally recommending ; and we 
indulge the hope that you will find in this consideration 



PREFACE. 



ix 



an additional reason for yielding to our present request. — 
We are, Eev. and dear Sir, yours most sincerely, 



THOMAS CLEGKHORN. 
D. MACLAGAN. 
ROBERT BALFOUR. 
THO. THOMSON. 
JOHN N. M'CANDLISH. 
N. C. CAMPBELL. 
ARCHD. T. BOYLE. 



ALEX. H. BURN MURDOCH. 
CHARLES J. BROWN. 
ROBERT BOAG WATSON. 
JAMES HOWDEN. 
JAMES D. FORBES. 
JOHN CAMPBELL SHAIRP." 



While conscious of my inability to perform worthily 
the task thus intrusted to me, I felt much gratified by 
the proposal so kindly made. But I must confess that I 
was at first strongly possessed by a feeling, with which I 
am sure those friends of John Mackintosh will heartily 
sympathize, that it seemed like disloyalty to his memory, 
and out of harmony with all we knew and remembered of 
him, to publish Journals of a life so faithfully recorded, 
and so very secret, as his was, before Grod ; and to bring 
under the notice of the world one so singularly unob- 
trusive. 

Upon the other hand, such a request as this, coming 
from those who knew and loved him, and whose judgment 
was so deserving of respect, could not be refused by me, 
lest I might thereby incur the responsibility of preventing 
this light from shining before men, which, others seeing, 
might glorify God. I felt, too, that those very features 
of his character which would have made him, when alive, 
recoil from publicity, only made his "hidden life,'"' so true 
and real, the more worthy now of being known ; and 



X 



PREFACE. 



moreover, that the conviction of what he is, even more, 
if possible, than the remembrance of what he was, afforded 
the assurance that his joy in heaven would, if possible, be 
increased, were he to know that, after death, he was made 
the instrument of glorifying his Master upon earth, by 
advancing that kingdom for which his whole life was an 
earnest preparation. 

And now that I have perused his Journals and Letters, 
and recorded what I and others knew of him, I am deeply 
thankful that God has conferred on me the high privi- 
lege, the honour, of editing these Memorials of my friend's 
life. I have only to regret that several causes, chiefly 
the many labours connected with my ministry, have made 
it impossible for me to prepare this volume sooner. But 
I have no excuse or apology to offer for any defects 
which may belong to my part of the work ; for I have 
done it to the very best of my ability, from the love I 
bore him. One thing I can assure the reader of — if such 
an assurance is needed — that, as far as I know, there is 
here a biography as true as can be written by one fallible 
man of another. I have concealed nothing, coloured or 
exaggerated nothing ; nor have I selected Memorials to 
picture one as he ought to be, but one as he really 
was. 

I return my thanks to his correspondents for having 
confided their letters to me. Many more might have been 
published ; but I was afraid of increasing the size of the 
work by printing many, rather than those most character- 
istic of him. 



PREFACE. 



There are some of his letters to Professor Forbes, which 
would have found a place here, had it not been that 
the Professor's continued absence from home made it im- 
possible for him to obtain these for me. I must, however, 
be pardoned, if I take the liberty, unasked, of quoting 
a portion of the Professor's own letter to myself, written to 
explain how, to his great regret, he was prevented, by the 
circumstance to which I have alluded, from complying with 
my request :— " I indulge the hope that my name will 
be allowed to appear united with Ms in your Biography 
— that you will undertake to express, however briefly, 
the warmth of regard, I might truly say affection, which 
united us, and which (judging from what I have learnt 
from yourself and others of the references which occur in 
his private papers) must have been mutual, to an extent 
of which neither party was at the time fully aware." 

One word more of prefatory explanation. John Mack- 
intosh, in his last will, desired that, after the payment of 
certain sums of money, from the funds at his disposal, 
any surplus should be handed over to the Mission Schemes 
of the Free Church. In the same instrument, he be- 
queathed his bookcase and books to the library of the 
Xew College, with the exception of a few volumes specified 
by himself, and left as mementos to different friends. The 
state of his funds did not, upon examination, permit of 
his wishes being carried out, with reference to the schemes. 
I mention these things here, partly because they belong 
to his character, and as the reason why I feel that I am 
only fulfilling my friend's wishes, in handing over all the 



xii 



PREFACE. 



profits of this work — which, have been secured by the 
liberality of its Publishers — to those missionary objects of 
the Free Church, the welfare of which J ohn Mackintosh 
had so much at heart — for, it is unnecessary to add, the 
Book, in everything which gives it any kind of value, 
belongs to him, not to me. 

N. M'L. 

Glasgow, August 1854. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER L pag r 

Birth — Edinburgh Academy — Glasgow College — Early Character — First 
Communion — Resolves to enter the Ministry — Last Years in Glasgow, . 1 



CHAPTER II. 

1839-41 — Spiritual Decay— Winter in Edinburgh, 1840-41 — Accompanies 
Professor Forbes to the Continent — Diary of Tour — Geddes — Love of 
Method— Habits of Devotion— Ailments, ..... 20 



CHAPTER III. 

Cambridge — Joins the Free Church — The Lakes — Letter from Rev. Mr. 
Madden — Letter from John Shairp, Esq., Rugby, . . . .41 



CHAPTER IV. 

Home and Happiness — Winter of 1843 in Edinburgh — The Continent — 
Heidelberg — Letter from Rev. Mr. Macintyre, . ... 78 



CHAPTER V. 

Last Years in Edinburgh, 1845-47— Father's Illness— West Port— Wales- 
Home — Christian Friends among the Poor — Father's Death — Lasswade — 
Mr. Tasker's Account of his West Port Labours, .... 100 



CHAPTER VI. 

1847-48 — Lasswade — Letters to Widow Mackenzie — J enny Lind's Concert — 
Letter to Free Church Minister — Letters to poor Christian Friends in the 
North— Bad Health— Visit to his Father's Grave— Letter to a Young 
Friend, . . . . . . . . .129 



xiv 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER VII. page 
Leaves Scotland — Letter of Alex. Burn Murdoch, Esq. — Diaries in Geneva, 
1848 ; and Letters to bis Mother, Rev. N. Macleod, and the Rev. W. 
Madden— Diary, 1849, 160 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Geneva, 1849 — Letters to the Rev. N. Macleod, to his Mother, to A. Hamil- 
ton, Esq., Miss Hunter Blair, to his Youngest Sister, to Robert Balfour, 
Esq., to the Rev. W. Madden, the Rev. William Ker, . . .189 

CHAPT^If IX. 

Leaves Geneva. — Vevay — Lausanne : Letter to Rev. N. Macleod — Berne — 
Zurich: Letter to his Sister, Mrs. Edward Smith — Diaries — Fribourg — 
Ascent of the Righi — Letter to his Mother — Richterswyll — Einsiedeln 
— Lake of Wallenstadt — Interview with a Swiss Merchant — Reichenau 
— Tusis— The Via Mala— Spl'dgen Pass, . . . . .208 

CHAPTER X. 

Enters Italy — Austrian Surveillance — Como — The Lombards — Isola Bella 
— Thoughts on entering Italy — Milan — Letter to Alex. Burn Murdoch, 
Esq. — Pavia — Piacenza — Mantua — Parma — The Apennines — Florence — 
Galileo's Tower — Fiesole — Vallombrosa — Scotch Church, Leghorn — Vol- 
terra — Sienna — Consecration of Railroad — Enters Rome, . . 226 



CHAPTER XI. 

Rome— Letter to Rev. N. Macleod, with General Description of Rome — 
Letter to R. Balfour, Esq. — St. Peter's— The Ghetto— Walks in Rome 
— All- Saints'-Day — Palazzo Borghese — St. Peter's — Arnold — Romanism 
— Studying Life in Rome — Christmas-Day there — Last Day of 1849, . 264 



CHAPTER XII. 

Rome, 1850 : Letters and Journals — Letter to his Youngest Sister — To A. 
Burn Murdoch, Esq. — Service in the Greek Church of St. Athanasia — 
Visit to the Ghetto — The Propaganda — Catechizing in Church of San 
Andrea — Tour to the Country of the iEneid — Raphael's Picture of the 
Transfiguration — The Jews, . . . . ... . 294 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Love of Truth — Last Letter from Rome— Tour to Naples — Sudden Attack 
of Illness — Leaves Rome — Journey Northward — Venice — Letter to his 
Sister, Lady Gordon Cumming — Letter to Alex. Burn Murdoch, Esq. — 
Crosses the Alps into Germany, . . . . . .316 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Tiibingen — His Studies there — Diary — Letters to his Youngest Sister, to 
Rev. Wm. Ker — Visits Stuttgart and Kornthal — Letters to his Mother, 



CONTENTS 



XV 



A. Barn Murdoch, Esq., and Rev. N. Macleod — Returns toTiibingen — Let- 
ters to A. Hamilton, Esq., to his Youngest Sister, to R. Balfour. Esq., to 
Miss Hodges, to his Mother, to A. Burn Murdoch, Esq., and to his Sister 
Lady Gordon Cumming — Christmas at Stuttgart — Letters to Miss Hodges, 
to his Sister Mrs. Smith, to Rev. X. Macleod, to A. Hamilton, Esq. — 
Declining Health— Diary, ....... 343 

CHAPTER XV. 

John Mackintosh's Friends in Scotland hear of his Danger — They join him 
at Tubingen — Darkness and Light — He is removed to Canstadt — Life at 
Canstadt— Last Days— Death— Burial, . . . . .392 

APPENDIX 

Notes on Schools in Stuttgart, ...... 423 



E EE AT A. 



Page 47, 
106, 
225, 
230, 
234, 
249, 
254, 



line 13, for more 
. . 20, for Macintosh 
. . 30, for Surgum 
8, for worth 



read never. 
read Mackintosh. 
read Sursum. 
read work. 



27, for in bona novint read si bona norint. 
33, for Valdamo read Valdarno. 
4, for portions read petitions. 



For Headings of Chapters VII. to X. substitute those given in Contents, p. xiv. 



THE EARNEST STUDENT; 

OR, 

MEMORIALS FROM THE LIFE OF JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



CHAPTER I. 

BERTH — EDINBURGH ACADEMY GLASGOW COLLEGE — EARLY CHARAC- 
TER — FIRST COMMUNION RESOLVES TO ENTER THE MINISTRY LAST 

YEARS IN GLASGOW. 

John Mackintosh was born in Edinburgh on the 9th 
of January 1822. He was the youngest son of the late 
"William Mackintosh, Esq. of Gecldes, in the county of 
Nairn, by his second marriage with Jane Jollie, daugh- 
ter of the late James Jollie, Esq.. W.S., Edinburgh. 

There are no circumstances connected with his early 
life of any interest beyond the circle of his own family. 
He went to Geddes for the first time in 1824 : returned 
to school in Edinburgh, along with his two brothers, in 
1828 ; was a pupil in Mr. Brown's English School until 
October 1830, when he entered the Xew Academy, where 
he remained until July 1837.* 

* His tutors, during the early period of his life, were the Rev. J. Anderson, who 
rlied in Bemerara ; the Rev. Mr. Knight, now minister of the Free Church, East 
Wemyss, Fife ; the Rev. Simon M'Lachlane, Free'Church, Cawdor; for some years, 
and while he attended the Academy, the Rev. Dr. Nisbet of the North Church, 

A 



■2 



MEMORIALS OF 



His success as a scholar has hitherto, I believe, been 
unrivalled in the history of that Institution, so distin- 
guished in Scotland for its pupils. 

For seven successive years he carried the first medal 
of his class, gaining besides, during the same period, up- 
wards of thirty prizes. After his last examination, the 
then Kector, Archdeacon Williams, in bidding him fare- 
well, and complimenting him on his distinguished career 
and admirable character while in the Academy, said — 
" You may be a great man, but I am quite sure you will 
be a good one." 

His holidays, while at the Academy, and the summers 
of his later years, were spent at Geddes,* which never 
ceased to be the home of his heart and of his most cher- 
ished memories. The district of country in which it is 
situated is eminently beautiful. From the windows of 
his room, he beheld a landscape whose foreground was 
made up of cultivated fields, varied and broken by copse 
and woodland ; while the horizon was bounded along the 
north by the bold line of coast of the Moray Firth, end- 
ing in the western distance with the great Ben Wyvis, 
itself a constant object of attraction to the eye amidst all 
the changes of sunshine and cloud, storm and calm, which 
passed over its huge mass from morn till sunset. In the 
immediate neighbourhood of Geddes, and surrounding the 
homes of familiar friends, were scenes eminently beauti- 
ful ; with innumerable unnamed spots and sequestered 
nooks of loveliness, known only to those who like himself 
searched for them as for hidden treasure ; — for that in- 
tense love of nature which through life " haunted him 

Edinburgh ; and, for some months, the late Rev. James Halley ; Rev. William C. 
Barns, now Missionary in China ; and Rev I; lay Burns, Free Church, Dundee 

* Now the residence of George Mackintosh, Esq., the eldest son of the late Mr. 
Mackintosh, by his jrst marriage. 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



like a passion," possessed him from his earliest years, and 
was daily, almost hourly, gratified by those rural glories 
among which he lived and delighted to wander. Caw- 
dor's woods and romantic burn ; the majestic forest of 
Darnaway, with the arrowy Findhorn sweeping through 
it; and Findhorn's banks, so endless in their varied beauty 
and wild grandeur, adorning it ; Dulcie with its lonely 
moorlands, and Loch-in-dorb the only thing which seems 
to have life among the silent hills of rock and heather 
that surround it — these were his familiar friends and 
prized companions. 

In the constant habit of mingling with good society in 
his own home (which, I may be permitted to say, was 
noted for its hospitality), those tastes and habits were 
early cultivated that make up the gentleman — a name 
often much abused and grievously misapplied, but which 
I use here to express not merely that outward manner 
in which art is discoverable only by the simplicity and 
unaffected naturalness which it has aided to produce, but 
more especially that inward sense of propriety, delicacy 
of feeling, and nice perception of what is due to others, 
which are the joint product of a benevolent heart, and the 
habitual influence of good society. 

But there were greater powers than these which built 
up his young spirit, and tended to make it what it 
afterwards became. He had the blessed advantage of 
a pious education. Christian truth, Christian exam- 
ple, and Christian habits of devotion, early impressed his 
heart. While at home, he was beneath the watchful 
eye of his father and mother. When studying in Edin- 
burgh, he had always excellent tutors ; was constantly 
associated with pious relatives ; and also received from 
his minister, Dr. Muir of St. Stephen's, that religious 



4 



MEMORIALS OF 



instruction which, with singular care and attention, he 
never fails to impart to the younger members of his 
congregation. 

In later years still, while in College, he was never be- 
yond the circle of religious teaching. It is true that there 
was not that learning of spirit within, which adequately 
expressed the amount and excellence of all this teaching 
from without — for, alas ! how much precious seed is 
scattered on the soil of every heart in vain ! — but it would 
sap our whole faith in the promises of God to pious parents 
and teachers ; in the wisdom of His appointments for the 
preservation upon earth of a generation to serve Him ; and 
in the value of prayer and of Christian example, if ex- 
perience did not confirm the truth contained in the well- 
known guiding text of the godly parent, " Train up a 
child in the way he should go, and when he is old he 
will not depart from it." It is very natural for young 
Christians, at that period of their history when they 
become powerfully possessed by the truth, and " all 
things become new," so to separate their later from 
their earlier life, as almost to deny any preparedness in 
the one for the other. For so entirely is the work in the 
soul known to be of God, and so very different from the 
past are all their present views and feelings, that this 
result, it is naturally supposed, would have been the same 
even without that religious training which, for so long a 
period, appeared to have been given in vain. But there 
is a preparedness for higher things which the eye may 
not easily perceive. The buds of spring and fruits of 
autumn lie concealed in the leafless tree of an earlier 
season. It is the experience of the universal Church, 
that the school which has furnished the immense majority 
of her best disciples is the home-school of Christian piety. 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



5 



Full of honours, John left the Academy in 1837 ; and 
in the winter of that year was enrolled as a student in 
the Greek and Latin classes of the University of Glasgow. 
He also became an inmate of the family of the Rev. Dr. 
Macleod, with whom he lived during the two winters of 
his Glasgow College life. In the winter of 1838-39, he 
was a student of the Greek and Logic classes. His career 
at College was as distinguished as his previous one in 
the Academy. During these years he carried the highest 
prizes in the Greek, Latin, and Logic Classes, besides 
other honours. 

This period was one of great importance to him, and 
exercised a lasting influence on his future life and char- 
acter. Old friendships were renewed and strengthened, 
and new ones formed.* His student life in Glasgow 
was marked by the same unswerving steadiness as his 
earlier course in the Academy. I believe it is strictly 
true, that he was never once absent from his class, nor 
even once late, and never on any occasion failed thoroughly 
to master the prescribed exercises. This patience and 
conscientious attention to details, with the scholarly un- 
derstanding of every subject of study, was then, and 
ever after, a marked feature of his character. Never 
was a man so devoid of all pretence. He knew much 
which he did not profess to know, and knew it well ; 
but he never professed to know anything unless he knew 
it thoroughly. Let no student, however, associate his 
name with the vanity which too often accompanies talent 

* Among those who were his associates in the Academy, and also in Glasgow, and 
who continued to the last to be his attached friends, may be mentioned — Archd. 
T. Boyle, Advocate, J ohn C. Shairp of Houston, the late lamented Wm. Clerk of 
Penicuick. and Robert Dalyell of Binns. He ever retained the devoted affection of 
every member of the family in which he lived, and formed also with his Professor, 
Mr. Ramsay, and his family, a friendship equally real and lasting on both sides. 



6 



MEMORIALS OF 



and academical success ; or with that selfish moroseness 
and want of social affection not unfrequently engendered 
by solitary study, but which are so repulsive to those of 
more lively sympathies, though perhaps of less industri- 
ous habits. The " hard student" is too often associated 
with the " hard man." That hourly restraint which he 
is compelled to impose on himself; and those habits of 
methodical arrangement of time, untiring perseverance, 
minute painstaking, which he must acquire often by the 
sacrifice of the society of his fellows, and by the denial 
of many otherwise harmless tastes and amusements con- 
genial to early life, are sometimes imagined to be incom- 
patible with those strong emotions, warm affections, and 
that relish of earthly existence which are so natural to 
young men, and so attractive to their fellows. Though 
not attending the same classes, I was then in the same 
University, and lived in the same house with him. His 
private and public life are vividly before me ; and never 
certainly was a student more beloved as well as admired. 
With all the sobriety, though tfulness, and self-control of a 
man, he had the merry-heartedness, buoyancy, and un- 
affected playfulness of a child. His manner was habitually 
quiet and full of repose ; his temper never ruffled ; his spirits 
never greatly excited or depressed. No man had a keener 
appreciation of the ludicrous as well as of the grave side 
of things, and his mirth was as real when it was time to 
laugh, as was his sorrow when it was time to weep. But 
the feature of his character which the friends of his early 
as well as of his latter years will most associate with him, 
was the utter unselfishness of his disposition, and that 
atmosphere of gentle kindness to all around him, in which 
he constantly lived and breathed, and which nothing ever 
disturbed. This love was manifested in every-day life, 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



not merely by the total absence of all envy, detraction, 
hard speeches, and harsh judgments, but also in a sen- 
sitive considerateness for the wishes of others, and an 
habitual watchfulness to please without ever being ob- 
trusive. Is there a single friend of his who can hear his 
name mentioned without also remembering the coun- 
tenance beaming with affection ; the hearty grasp of 
the hand at meeting or parting ; and the quickened step 
and often warm embrace, which marked the ending of 
longer periods of separation ! He was, in one word, even 
then known as one of the most cheerful, humble -minded, 
sincere, and loveable of men. 

It was during his residence in Glasgow, in the spring 
of 1838, that he partook, for the first time, of the Lord's 
Supper. He attended the ministry of the Eev. Dr. Dun- 
can, at present Professor of Hebrew in the New College 
of Edinburgh, then the minister of Milton Chapel, Glas- 
gow, who ever after was one of his most valued friends. 

He communicated his intention to his mother in the 
following letter : — 

" Glasgow, March 28, 1838. 
" The sacrament of the Lord's Supper is to be com- 
memorated here towards the beginning of April, and I 
feel it my duty, and oh ! that I could say from the heart, 
I feel it my privilege to come forward to the table in 
obedience to our Eedeemer's command — 1 Do this in re- 
membrance of me/ I feel that all who profess to be 
followers of Christ, and who have arrived at the years of 
discretion, ought to prepare to come to this ordinance ; 
for how, if I am unprepared and unfit to drink of the wine 
at the communion-table on earth, can I expect and be 
permitted and prepared to drink it fresh in the kingdom 
of heaven, were I to be called away this moment ? The 



8 



MEMORIALS OF 



banquet is spread for sinners ; and were I to wait till I 
had attained some righteousness or grace of my own, to 
entitle me to come, I would hold back for ever. To come 
trusting to any one grace or act of self- righteousness for 
acceptance, were equally sinful and equally liable to the 
awful curse, as to come with unwashen hands, and to eat 
and drink unworthily. May God of His infinite and free 
grace grant that I may be enabled to come, having washed 
my hands in the innocency, not of the law, but of Christ's 
righteousness, received and applied for my justification 
through faith, looking on sanctification not as the ground 
of my coming, but as one of the benefits to be derived 
from it — to come with His Holy Spirit (which is to be 
received through prayer for Christ's sake) working in me 
sorrow for sin, and desires after holiness ; and that I may 
be enabled henceforth L to walk not after the flesh, but 
after the Spirit!' " 

This public profession of his faith was preceded by a 
great change of mind in regard to spiritual things. The 
following extract from his diary* narrates his past history 
up to this period. (It was written at Geddes, in the 
autumn of 1838.) 

" Sept. 30, Sunday. — This is the last Sabbath which, 
this year at least, I am to spend here, and as I may not 
have another opportunity of noting clown a few reflections 
upon this era of my leaving the country, I now do so. 
Let me meditate on the Lord's gracious dealings with me 
as far back as I can retrace them. As a child, when just 
entering on boyhood, I appear to have been most unami- 
able and vicious to a degree when thwarted in anything, 

* This Diary, begun in June 1838, is continued to the last year of his life, and 
with the exception of a portion of 1839, the events of every day are minutely 
recorded. 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



9 



yet perhaps tender-hearted and fond of those who showed 
me kindness. At the age of six or seven I remember 
having had some religious impressions, feeling a desire to 
be a good and a holy man ; and, strange to say, though I 
had read no missionary memoir, and had heard very little 
upon that subject, I have a confused recollection of wish- 
ing to become one in after life. I had also many thoughts 
of heaven, and longed for the certainty of going there at 
last, deeming the attainment of this sure hope, however, 
impossible. Sometimes I even dreamed I was there, and 
took it as a favourable sign ; and frequently, a few years 
afterwards, when these impressions had worn off — though 
the desire of escaping hell was naturally still strong — I 
used to look back upon these early feelings, thinking with 
much comfort, that him whom God hath once loved, He 
will love unto the end. At this time I was attending a 
public school in Edinburgh, under a very strict teacher 
(now, alas ! departed) where I was distinguished by a very 
close but specious attention and sobriety of deportment 
during school hours, dictated by a slavish fear, and carried 
to an extreme length. At the age of eight I entered the 
lowest class of the Edinburgh Academy, again under a 
very strict teacher, where my attention and staid behaviour 
continued, with this difference, that the former was now 
unfeigned, and was kept up at home as well as in school. 
This secured my gradual rise to the head of a class of 
sixty or seventy pupils ; and through the gradation of seven 
classes, the same qualities procured me the same honour- 
able place. For five years of this large period of life 
my brother accompanied me side by side, but in the fifth 
he left, and since then I have pursued my studies alone. 
In the sixth year my lamented teacher died ; but in the 
seventh and last year of my academical career, the most 



10 



MEMORIALS OF 



important circumstance took place, the effects of which I 
trust will be felt by me throughout eternity. Here for the 
present I must end. May the Lord make me grateful for 
His many mercies !" 

What he says in the above J ournal regarding his temper 
in boyhood is true. It was naturally quick, and suddenly 
flashed into a blaze when excited, especially by any act 
of injustice or unkindness ; but so completely subdued by 
the grace of God was it in after years, that we are per- 
suaded his most intimate friends who were not acquainted 
with him in early life, will hardly believe that his meek 
and gentle nature had the capacity even of being roused 
to vehement emotion. Alluding to this period of his 
spiritual history on his deathbed, he said, " I used, when 
in the Academy, to try and satisfy my heart and find rest 
in scholarship and classical honours, but it would not do 
— Christ alone could give me peace. Halley became my 
tutor, and gave me Baxter's Saints' Rest ; and that first 
made me think. When I went to Glasgow, William 
Burns, then my tutor, gave me a great hitch. But Den- 
niston* first showed to me the freeness of the Gospel." 

During the summer and autumn of 1838, which were 
spent at Geddes, his hours of study were occupied by 
Greek and Latin, and by general preparation for his 
winter's course at College, along with history, religious 
biography, and a few treatises on practical theology. He 
amused himself with walking, riding, shooting, and en- 
joying society in the evening. But never before was be 
so occupied as now in working out his own salvation with 
fear and trembling ; and never did he possess so much 
real peace of heart. The Journal of each day marks the 

* Mr. Dennfcton, now a minister in the Free Church, was some years in 
Jamaica, and latterly in connexion with the Jewish Mission, in Constantinople. 



JOliN MACKINTOSH. 



11 



conscientious earnestness with which he endeavoured to 
know and to obey the will of God. I begin with his first 
entry : — 

" June 21, 1838. — To-day felt somewhat moved in 
prayer by a sense of God's grace ; the frame, however, 
was soon over ; in devotional reading was remiss and 
unsettled. All my religious duties clearly show that I 
have not yet attained a habitual sense of God's omni- 
presence. for greater inclination and strength to serve 
Him with my whole heart ! 

" June 24, Sunday. — When shall I be enabled to pass 
the Lord's Day in the Spirit ! In general, how cold and 
formal has my frame been, and how transient the occa- 
sional gleams of sunshine ! In church, felt not that it 
was none other than the gate of heaven. Have had 
little experience in argument till lately ; but find that I 
am prone to be self-conceited, stubborn, and hasty in 
forming a decision. This must be watched against. How 
excellent the advice of Wilcox : 4 Measure not thy graces 
by others' attainments, but by the Scripture ; ' for in com- 
parison with the ungodly around, I am apt to think well 
of myself, till a sight of Christ and holiness reveals me 
a loathsome worm. Eead in Henry Martyn, and Booth's 
Reign of Grace ; the latter, next to the Bible, is the best 
and simplest book I have yet seen for a startled sinner, 
whose first impulse is generally to run to works instead of 
Christ, May every Sabbath be a stage nearer to the 
heavenly bourne ; and may I acquire a more powerful 
stimulus the nearer I approach. 

" June 26. — No moral improvement. Would that I 
could obey the command : 4 Let each esteem others better 
than himself.' Sensitive and impatient of the failings 
of others, forgetful of my own. When shall I be truly 



12 



MEMORIALS OF 



humble ?— When I know Christ better, 4 who, being in 
the form of God, thought it not robbery/ &c, 4 but made 
himself of no reputation.' " 

This was a month in his life memorable to him, inas- 
much as he now, after much thought and prayer, resolved 
to dedicate himself to the holy ministry as his future 
profession. His own Diaries will best explain his views 
and feelings at this time. 

" June 28. — Keturning home alone with my father, 
took the opportunity of broaching a subject which has for 
some time been pressing me — my future profession in life, 
if spared. He is much bent on my following the law, to 
which he has dedicated me for many years. If I do so, 
Oxford (a place by anticipation dear to my heart !) and 
perhaps worldly honour await me. Within myself, how- 
ever, I think the ministry is the profession in which I 
could lay myself out best with heart and. soul, and which, 
on my deathbed, would afford me most comfort. This 
would crush my Oxford hopes, and those of worldly suc- 
cess — which I would fain say I disregard, but know too 
little of my carnal and deceitful heart to do so — besides 
disappointing the expectations of many of my friends. 
But it must be decided soon, and is already fixed in the 
eternal decrees of God. Would that the love of Christ 
and zeal for His glory were so increased that they might, 
like the sword of the barbarian conqueror of Eome, easily 
decide the scale. 

44 June 29. — Nothing more determined with regard to 
my future prospects ; but it must be done with prompti- 
tude, as steps must be taken immediately, according to 
my decision. There is but one friend I know whom I 
would consider an impartial adviser, and he is far distant. 
I must, therefore, look to the Lord as my guide, for 4 if 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



13 



we commit our ways' to Him, He has promised to di- 
rect us. 

" June 30. — Spoke of the ministry to-night, and hope 
the balance in favour of it is preponderating. To-morrow 
is the Sabbath. for watchfulness to commence a new 
week well ! If that day is passed carelessly, how can 
I expect the following six to be otherwise ? May I 
receive grace to obey, in some measure, Isaiah lviii. 13. 

" July 2. — To-day peculiarly unsettled in thought. My 
principles are now to stand a test. May they come out 
from the trial purified and refined. Felt very gloomy and 
heartless at my future prospects, and did not immediately 
resort to the admonition, 1 If any man be afflicted, let 
him pray.' My studies seemed to have lost all their 
relish, and my own position to have sunk. This clearly 
proves, that though professedly I do all to the glory of 
God, there are other more powerful motives lurking 
beneath — man-pleasing and worldly ambition. . . . Oh ! 
then, let me pray that self may be wholly extracted from 
all I do, and that henceforth I may live to Him that died 
for me ! May my heart be convinced that it is a reason- 
able service ! 

" July 4. — Came to a determination, after prayer for 
guidance, to choose the ministry. The disappointment it 
must occasion my father almost unnerved me, not that he 
by any means dislikes the profession, but having my wel- 
fare in life at heart, he fears for my success in a line 
where getting an appointment is now so uncertain. But 
if I have been called of God, He will provide for me. 
Communicated my resolution to him, and steps will ac- 
cordingly be taken. What a solemn prospect ! I can 
hardly bring myself to believe I have undertaken it. 
What need of improvement ! God grant my determina- 



14 



MEMORIALS OF 



tions may become more fixed daily, and that grace and 
peace may be given me. Probably, from dwelling too 
much in thought on the Spirit's office in the heart, have 
become vexed and unable to prosecute the business I may 
have in hand, from my thoughts continually recurring to 
it. May I be enabled to overcome this, or it may become 
a confirmed habit. 

" July 5. — Frequently depressed on thinking of the 
future. for more faith, and its kindred grace — hope. 
May I increase in love and gratitude to my Eedeemer, 
that so I may account the devoting of my body 4 a living 
sacrifice 1 to Him, as indeed my 1 reasonable service/ 
There is a harder struggle between the flesh and the 
spirit in so doing than I expected ; for sometimes my 
resolution seemed immovable, and my heart fairly weaned 
from worldly ambition, and set upon the heavenly crown ; 
and yet I feel assured and encouraged by the thought, 
that in the end I will rejoice that I have been led to 
choose the sacred office. 

u July 11. — To-day an answer arrived to a letter 
which my father had written to Edinburgh immediately 
on my communicating my determination to him. How 
different from what I expected ! All friends there pleased. 
What cause for gratitude to God ! Oxford hopes, too, 
revived. Well, if I can go there conscientiously, and 
God sees fit, it may tend to render me more useful in 
His service. But into His hands I desire to commit it. 
In the meantime, I thirst for the internal encouragement 
of growth in grace, while matters externally look so 
promising.' 7 

And thus his future profession was decided. The 
decision was one which never gave him any sorrow, 
but much joy, during life, and afforded him, as he antici- 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



15 



pated, comfort on his deathbed. A few more extracts 
from his Diary will bring this period of his life to a 
close : — 

" July 15. — Eose early, and read in Psalms. Finished 
the Memoir of Henry Marty n. Felt grieved that it was 
done. What an exalted, lovely Christian ! Doubtless he 
is now in bliss, reaping the fruit of his trials and labours. 
It is impossible not to love him, and yet he was but a 
faint reflection of the centre of all holiness, meekness, and 
grace — Jesus. Surely, then, were I to meditate more on 
His character, and read more carefully the sacred account 
of His life and labours, under the Spirit's influence, it 
would be impossible not to love Him. 

" July 20. — The natural heart still sets its affections 
on things below. Of this I have had experience this 
very day ; and before the evil is cured, I shall have, alas ! 
much more. But into God's hands I commit myself. 

that He would increase my love to Him and to His 
service ; empty me of self; fill me with Christ ; that so, 
living to Him alone, I may have no inducement to seek 
'my own' things. Thus will I fall asleep in peace in 
God's appointed time, and awake to the enduring re- 
ward. 

" July 23. — Eode for two hours. Enjoyed a sweet 
confidence in God. Spoke with C. A., during my ride, of 
love to Christ, and the pervading end we ought to have 
in view in all we do — His glory. Eeacl in Brainerd. 

" July 24. — Much time is too often unnecessarily wasted 
in the morning between waking and dressing. This 
arises from slothfulness, against which I must guard. As 

1 had the prospect of being engaged all day from home, 
spent an hour in devotional exercises before breakfast. 
Then started for Inverness. 



16 



MEMORIALS OF 



" July 25. — Greek study vigorous ; yet I think I ought 
to be far more doctus utriusque linguce than I am. At 
twelve, resolved, in consideration of my spiritual dead- 
ness, to spend my remaining study hours in reading of 
the Scriptures with prayer, till two. I long for an 
abiding sense of my own vileness, that thus I may be 
filled with Christ, for I am proud, impatient, and selfish, 
to a fearful degree. 

" July 26. — Had a nearer and more clear view of 
Christ than ever before ; tasted of His goodness, but oh ! 
of how short duration was the communion ! What must 
heaven be, where His love is felt without cessation ! 

" July 29, Sunday. — Eead in Hebrews. Then in Dur- 
ham. In prayer, was enabled to feel somewhat of my 
own nothingness, and Christ's fulness. They only who 
wait upon God can expect an answer to their petitions. 
Eead Brainerd. Holy man ! yet his natural temperament 
appears to have rendered him more frequently melancholy 
and depressed than such Christians as H. Martyn, who 
seem seldom to have had a humbling view of their sin- 
fulness without at the same time feeling cheered by the 
thought of the covenant of grace. 

" August 5, Sunday. — It is a strait and a steep road 
to sanctification. Blessed be God, that He forbears with 
such an offender. Can such a worm ever be made holy ? 
Yes, for Christ's sake. may the work make more rapid 
progress ; and may the Lord enable me to keep with 
watchfulness my own vineyard, lest, if He please to 
appoint me to the charge of others, I myself be found a 
castaway. 

" August 8. — Began to meditate on the vanity of ail 
earthly things, unless God have a share in them. Con- 
sidered first the worthlessness of human acquirements, 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



17 



unless pursued with a single eve to God's glory. Still 
squander much time, especially during study ; this is very 
bad, after the discipline in that point I have for many 
years undergone. Again, in humble trust on Divine help. 
I would resolve to live wholly to Christ. This would 
have saved me from the jealousy I felt to-day, on hearing 
I was surpassed in ability by another. Surely I know 
that all natural talent is God's gift : and that, therefore, 
whether mine is great or small, I have no reason either 
to boast or complain, but only to seek to husband it to 
the best advantage in my Master's service, though it be 
but one. 

" August 25, Saturday. — This day has, I trust, been 
appointed for good ; many things having occurred through- 
out to humble my naturally proud heart. may I be 
led to make a friend of Him who sticketh closer than a 
brother, who despiseth not even the meanest that cast 
themselves on His mercy. How base has been my con- 
duct of late toward Him who gave up His life for me ; 
surely I am too black with sin to be permitted to cumber 
the earth, for I have been a reproach to the cause of 
Christ by my selfish and vain walk and conversation. 
But God's ways are not as our ways, and He is ^amazing 
forbearance and love V waiting to be gracious, and to re- 
ceive back His prodigal son. may I not be deceiving 
myself, but do Thou give me the evidence of my adop- 
tion, by bringing me to rest in Jesus — 'Say unto my 
soul, I am thy salvation/ Lord, prepare me for the Sab- 
bath — may it be a foretaste of that rest which remaineth 
for Thy people. 

" August 30, Thursday. — I fear I am not paying atten- 
tion enough to my health ; that is, it is not so good as it 
should be after so long a stay in the country : this is ob- 

B 



18 



MEMORIALS OF 



servable more from looks and from indigestion, than in 
any actual feeling. I must, therefore (as the in corpore 
sano is no small requisite for the mens sana) 1 endeavour 
to take more exercise, and out-of-doors relaxation than 
hitherto, and make up the loss to study by more intense 
labour while engaged in it. May I do this from a single 
eye to God's glory, which may be essentially promoted by 
my doing my utmost, as far as human means go, to pre- 
serve my health. May it give rise to no slothful habits ! 
Lord, accompany it with Thy blessing, doing with Thy 
servant as seemeth to Thee good. 

" Sept. 22, Saturday. — Much unwatchfulness through- 
out the day — how prejudicial to growth in grace ! how 
injurious to the cause of Christ, which may be furthered 
even by the least of His professing followers." 

The winter of 1338- 39 was spent, as I have before 
said, in Glasgow ; where he again lived in the family of 
Dr. Macleod, and was enrolled as a student in the Greek 
and Logic Classes of the University. Nothing of any 
peculiar interest marked this winter's career. He began 
to teach a class in a Sunday-school — an occupation in 
which he ever after engaged with peculiar pleasure, when 
he had an opportunity of engaging in it ; and of the im- 
portance and responsibility of whose duties he was pro- 
foundly convinced. He says — 

" Jan. 13, 1839. — Sunday morning, to Milton ; after- 
noon, to St. Columba ; evening, to teach class — it consists 
of nine or ten, varying from six to ten years of age — -a very 
difficult task, from the extreme youth of the children, and 
fatiguing, though pleasant. 1 Cast thy bread upon the 
waters, and thou shalt find it after many days!' Let 
this be my encouragement. The management of it will 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



19 



require some thought and much prayer." And often was 
it made the subject of his prayers and thanksgivings ! 

On his birth-day (January 9), he writes — " This day 
I am seventeen. It is about two years since I began 
to think seriously of religion. I trust I have made 
progress ; but alas ! how small compared with my oppor- 
tunities ! God be praised for His goodness to me in the 
past ! May His loving-kindness continue, and may I 
daily make growth in every grace." . . . u Opportunities 
occur for my saying a word for Jesus, yet I am unpre- 
pared and unable to speak ! Enable me to walk more 
closely with Thee, Lord." 

He attended as often as possible the prayer-meeting 
of the College Missionary Association along with his 
friends Burns and Denniston, and derived much good 
from those meetings. In his last Glasgow Diary, he 
says — 

" April 27. — Prizes voted. I first prize in Greek Class, 
on senior side ; and first prize also in the Logic Class. 

"May 1. — Prizes delivered. Off at four. Sad part- 
ing ! the only thing makes me leave Glasgow with regret 
is parting with Dr. Macleod and his dear family." 

I may add, that the regret was as deep and sincere in 
the family which he left, when parting from their dear 
inmate. On the top of the coach, he composed verses 
to those he left behind, full of that ardent love which in 
him " never failed.'' 



20 



MEMORIALS OF 



CHAPTER II. 

1839-41 SPIRITUAL DECAY — WINTER IN EDINBURGH 1840-41 — ACCOM- 
PANIES PROFESSOR FORBES TO THE CONTINENT — DIARY OF TOUR 

GrEDDES — LOVE OF METHOD — HABITS OF DEVOTION — AILMENTS. 

His studies in Glasgow were now over. 

The summer and autumn of 1839 were spent at home, 
and the winter of 1839-40 in Edinburgh, where he at- 
tended the classes of Moral Philosophy and Mathematics 
in the University. 

His Diaries of this time present a striking contrast to 
those of every other. 

There are nowhere the usual minute details of daily 
life — whole months being omitted without even a passing 
notice ; nor do we once meet with any of those holy 
thoughts and aspirations, or trace that watchfulness of his 
spirit, which characterize every succeeding volume. 

The only events briefly and hurriedly noted during the 
days of summer and autumn, are fishings, shootings, and 
pleasant festivities at home or among the families in the 
neighbourhood. These were followed up in Edinburgh 
by a life of idleness and gaiety, so that the history of his 
winter's career is recorded in one single page, of which 
dinner parties, balls, and the theatre, are the only features. 
The summer and autumn of 1840, again spent at home, 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



21 



were much the same in their outer and inner history as 
those of the previous year ; and not till he resumes his 
College work in Edinburgh in the winter of 1841, does 
the better and the higher life again appear as it had been 
before, and continued uninterruptedly ever after, until it 
ended in perfect life above. 

During this long period, he had been a backslider in 
heart. Without having fallen into gross outward sins, or 
given up the " form of godliness, " he nevertheless so far 
lost his confidence in God, that he tried to find his life 
in the things of the world, and that were "not of the 
Father." Such summer recreations as were given him 
after his severe Glasgow winter of mental study and spi- 
ritual conflicts, were the very things which he most need- 
ed, as best fitted to restore health and freshness both to 
mind and body. He had abundance of time for reading 
and thought, relieved by the loving and cheering influ- 
ences of domestic and family life. He could stroll with 
his fishing-rod along the banks of a romantic stream, or 
the shores of a mountain loch ; and have good shooting 
amoDg the cover on the breezy uplands or across the wild 
moorlands. These were gifts from God designed for his 
good. But such reactions of free life and joyous social 
intercourse, at home and in the neighbourhood, were far 
too much for him at the time. The natural man, with his 
strong emotions and keen sympathies, enjoyed them so 
intensely, that the spiritual man, yet weak and tottering, 
was thrown as it were off his balance. For so it is, that 
the very same things which become to us a source of good 
and happiness, when received in a right spirit, as given 
from Christ, and enjoyed in such a measure and in such 
a way as He wills, may in another state of our inward 
being, and in a different stage of our mental history, be 



MEMORIALS OF 



received by us in such a spirit as that they shall become 
evil to us — feeding only life in the flesh, and alienating us 
from " the life of God." It is thus with the soul as with 
a plant— the very same outward elements of light and 
darkness, calm and storm, sunshine and rain, which 
nourish it when alive, growing and producing its leaves 
and flowers of beauty, become also the most powerful 
means of speedily turning it, when dead, into corrup- 
tion. 

The excitements of society into which he was thrown 
at this time, gradually entangled him. He became care- 
less in his private devotions, and ceased to " live by faith 
on the Son of God." He felt more and more unhappy — 
habitually clung to the world for peace, and ever and 
anon, in distress of mind, cried " out of the depths" for 
pardon ; until Christ became more a deliverer from future 
punishment than a deliverer from present evil, as well as 
the bestower of every real good, and the sustainer of a true 
life that "now is." And so the war in his soul between 
the flesh and the spirit, the " old man" and the "new," 
God in all things, or all things without God, became less 
and less earnest as the " things seen" concealed from his 
spiritual eye "the things unseen." Peace was purchased 
by the sacrifice, at first, of conscientious scruples, and 
latterly of conscientious convictions, until he settled down 
in the dead level of things around him ; or he stood rather 
on the very brink of a precipice, from which Satan was 
eager to cast him clown for ever ! But the Lord in mercy 
kept him from falling into those lower depths of sin from 
which there is so seldom any recovery ; and not without 
many wounds, and many tears, and sore struggles He re- 
stored his soul and " the joy of His salvation," and led 
him, " for His own name's sake, along a path of righte- 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



23 



ousness," from which he never departed till he u dwelt in 
the house of the Lord for ever ! " 

For a moment I must pause in my narrative, and for 
once at least, directly address some of my readers. If 
these lines are perused by any young persons entering on 
their Christian course, who have " received the word with 
joy," and are now full of ardent feeling, let me affection- 
ately warn them. For how many young men have 
escaped the pollutions of the world through the knowledge 
of the Lord and Saviour, hut have nevertheless become 
again entangled therein, and overcome — their latter end 
being worse with them than the beginning ! Beware how 
you trifle with temptation. The first step from God may 
fix your eternal destiny. Declension generally begins in 
the closet. Be instant, therefore, and earnest in prayer. 
Make no Saviour of your feelings, resolutions, or past ex- 
periences, and have no confidence in the flesh — but abide 
in Christ, the living, personal, and ever present Saviour. 
Be firmly persuaded that He knoweth your frame, and the 
things that you stand in need of ; and that He will supply 
every want of soul and body in the fullest measure, at the 
best time, and in the best way, consistent with your great- 
est good, and therefore with your deepest peace and joy. 
Accept all things from Him — enjoy all things in Him — 
return all things to Him, " and go on your way rejoic- 
ing!" But think not that when you please to depart 
from Christ, you may at any time please to return ; or 
that should you return, the loss which you have sustained 
by so sad a departure, can ever be so made up in this 
world, as that it shall not be a constant deduction from 
that sum of character, of usefulness, and of joy, which 
otherwise would have been possessed by " a patient con- 
tinuance in well-doing I" 



24 



MEMORIALS OF 



The following extracts from his Journals during this 
period sufficiently disclose his state of mind : — 

" Geddes, Saturday, June 8, 1839. — I fear I am re- 
trogading, from carelessness and temptations around. This 
week especially, my devotions have been sadly neglected, 
and it has certainly told on my walk and conversation. 
Alas ! the folly of my heart, that is ever suffering worldly 
things to take such a hold on it, to the neglect of the 
infinitely higher concerns of eternity. to feel that I 
am nothing ; to be made sensible of the vanity of earthly 
things, that they are gilded with their attraction by the 
enemy of souls. Let me endeavour to commence a closer 
walk with God. To-morrow (Sabbath), Lord, enable 
me to make a stand in Thy strength against the gradual 
and insidious encroachments of Satan. 

"Sunday, June 9. — I thirst for a greater love to holi- 
ness, for I cannot but feel that my affections are often 
fixed on objects wholly devoid of holiness, who would 
even lose their interest in me, were they holy. This is 
a fearful confession. to have no will of my own, no 
self-seeking — to feel that my life, stated opportunities, 
all, were given not for my own purposes, but God's, 
to employ them therefore as a steward, not an irre- 
sponsible owner — to deny myself, to live wholly for my 
Master. 

" Monday, June 17. — Great conflict in mind. Temp- 
tations to vanity, self- pleasing, and worldliness very strong, 
and hard to be overcome ; indeed, in my situation, I can- 
not expect it to be otherwise ; and if suppressed once, it 
will, I feel, be ever ready to burst out with greater force. 
In me there is no strength to overcome. Lord, Thou 
canst do all things. preserve me to Thyself! Let 
not Satan make me his prey. Give me humility — 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



25 



humility, and enable me to devote myself to Thee a living" 
sacrifice, which is my reasonable service/' 

No other notice is taken of his spiritual history until 
the April of the following year. A friend of his, who had 
watched his progress with deep interest, wrote to him very 
earnestly, pointing out his danger, and expressing his anxie- 
ty regarding him. With reference to that letter, he says — 

" Saturday, April 11, 1840. — Eeceived an answer from 
this morning. Some good advice in it has awa- 
kened a train of reflection, and led me to some conclusions 
and resolutions. First, I have re-resolved in my heart to 
enter, if permitted, God's service in the ministry, and this 
resolve I make from even more unbiassed motives than be- 
fore ; for I have tasted within the last six months some of 
this world's gay joys and rewards, and do here record for 
my future guidance, that though I have enjoyed as far as 
my nature ever, if given up to them, could enjoy them, they 
are in the end unsatisfying, and compared with the purer 
and healthier joys of a stricter walk, much inferior. I 
therefore shake hands with them, and propose for the 
future, in divine strength, to devote myself anew to a holy 
life, from the lowest motives of prudence, up to those of 
diviner and more disinterested origin, which I trust may 
even now be found in my heart, and will continue to gain 
strength. I desire to abstain from partaking in or coun- 
tenancing known sin, as also from thoughtless speech, and 
acts of doubtful propriety — as theatre -going, ball-going, 
&c. ; and, in opposition to these, to persevere more in the 
means of grace. The task is difficult ; it must be a work. 
Too long have I backslidden. I may say in sincerity, 
{ Facilis descensus ; at revo^ire gradum, hoc opus.' May 
God, who I trust has put this into my heart, enable me to 
perform." 



26 



MEMORIALS OF 



When leaving College, lie asks himself the question, 
Why it is that for the first time these ten years he has 
received no honours? "Alas!" he says in reply, " my 
past Journal explains it. It must, if possible, be com- 
pensated for in future. I have not clone my duty to 
myself, my friends, or my old interested teachers. " 

After taking a short excursion to Loch Lomond, he 
returned home to Geddes, and again the same routine 
during the summer and autumn (of 1840) of amusements 
and excitements every clay ; but great comparative dead- 
ness as to spiritual things remained. A visit of a day or 
two which he paid in August to his friend Halley, who 
was then in Glasgow on his dying bed, to whom he was 
so much attached, from whom he had received so much 
good, while it showed the warmth of his affection, does 
not seem to have been the means of rousing him effectually 
from his lethargy. 

Immediately before going to Glasgow, he writes :— 
"Thursday, July 30. — In forenoon reading, struck 
with thoughts of my neglect of God ; and the manner in 
which I have occasionally been resolving to lead a more 
correct life, without resolving on an entire surrender of 
myself to God. Eeligion must be everything, or no- 
thing. Therefore, seeking to strive, yet depend on God's 
grace, I have undertaken a godly life." 

After his return to Geddes in October, he again says : — 
" Wednesday, Oct. 14. — At home writing to Halley, &c. 
Happened to glance through my old journals, and rejoice 
I have kept them. How extraordinary they are — con- 
trasts strong as night and day ! Here the most sincere 
(I in my heart believe sincere) expressions of fervent and 
for me exalted piety — there a total change — -a thorough 
worldling in thought, word, and deed — suddenly reso- 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



27 



lutions of amendment ; but, alas ! a partial backsliding 
again, in which state, I fear, I in some degree still remain. 
So metamorphosed did I feel, that I appeared to be read- 
ing the journal of another, and passing impartial judg- 
ment on it. Scarce a thought or feeling now the same. 
However, I do find now in my heart a strong yearning to 
return to my rest, in humble dependence on Jesus Christ. 

"Saturday, Oct. 17. — Alas! the time of my departure 
draws nigh. Struggle in my heart between the world 
and holiness depresses me. In the former I could drink 
deep of its pleasures, which have their charm ; but reason 
— though alas ! at present, not inclination — leads me to 
desire the latter. May God have mercy on me." 

He resumed his studies in Edinburgh early in Novem- 
ber, as a student of the Mathematical and Natural Philo- 
sophy Classes ; and from that period, until he could write 
no more, each day finds a notice in his diary, and never 
again does there appear a trace of " departure from the 
living God." 

This winter was one of growth in grace, labours of 
love, vigorous study, and peace of mind. He then attended 
and enjoyed the ministry of Dr. Candlish. Every Sab- 
bath morning and evening he taught a class in his Sab- 
bath-school : " earnestly preparing for his work, and 
desiring to have a deep sense of his responsibility for 
these souls, whom 4 he committed to Christ.'" "May 
God," he prays, " choose some of them for His sheep." 
He began also family worship in his lodgings ; attended 
a prayer-meeting, and meetings of the Students' Mission- 
ary Society, and was also a monthly visitor of the pen- 
sioners of the Indigent Sick Society ; and all these acts of 
the life without strengthened the life within. Kemem- 
bering the past, he says : — 



28 



MEMORIALS OF 



"Jan. 11, 1841. — Letter from mother. Eeminded by 
letter that Saturday was birthday, 19. My last year has 
been sadly misspent, more than any preceding, considering 
my opportunities. Dissipation, worldliness, extravagance, 
and almost uniform forgetfulness of God mark it through- 
out. Add, too, disobedience to parents. May my sin be 
washed out in Christ's blood, and may I be enabled to 
return to my rest in God. Since I came here I have been 
recovering, I think." 

More than once he returns to the same period of his back- 
sliding, and is conscious of his danger ; and labours and 
prays earnestly to be kept from falling. 

" Jan. 22. — Often depressed partly by my backwardness 
in studies ; yet how good for me, as bringing me nearer to 
God, and leading me to labour solely for Him, committing 
the results without any fear into His hands ! 1 dread a 
decline when my present mode of life ceases, and I am 
again exposed in society to temptations. My fall is cer- 
tain if I trust myself, or ever relax religious meditation 
and reading. God grant this may never again occur ! 
rather sacrifice everything than my peace and rest in 
Him." 

In the month of March he heard the intelligence of Mr. 
Halley's death : — 

" Thursday, March 18. — Eeceived tidings of Mr. Hal- 
ley's death, long expected, but heavy to me ; inasmuch 
as my dearest friend on earth has departed, and one whom 
I regard as my spiritual father, having first awakened in 
me serious impressions of religion. It seems wonderful 
that his great attainments, dedicated to Christ, have been 
thus cut off ; but His ways are not as our ways, and he 
has been taken to the heavenly rest. Just a week since 
he wrote me — cheerful and vigorous in mind — now he is 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



29 



singing the song of the redeemed in Christ's presence. 
May I live, realizing that state — a pilgrim, wholly to 
Christ. May I have His presence here, and be made meet 
for the inheritance above ! May his sorrowing relations 
be comforted ! 

44 So ends another volume of diary, from leaving Glas- 
gow to nearly end of second winter in Edinburgh, re- 
cording much that is bad : I trust the next shall, through 
God's help, be stained with no backslidings. Amen.'' 

The following were now his hours of study : — " Rise 
at six. read Scriptures to seven and a half; study to 
nine : then breakfast, College, walk, &c., to three ; study, 
three to four : meditation, &c, four to five ; dine, and light 
reading, five to six ; six to eight, study ; eight to nine, 
tea. &e. : nine to ten, study ; then, ten to eleven, prayers 
and to bed." 

It was during this winter in Edinburgh, and while 
attending the class of Natural Philosophy, that he had 
the happiness of becoming acquainted with Professor 
James Forbes ; and, among his many friends, there were 
none for whom he entertained a deeper and more lasting 
affection. 

In the spring of 1841, he was invited by the Professor 
to accompany him on one of his geological rambles 
through the magnificent Island of Arran. An excellent 
pedestrian, passionately fond of scenery, eager to acquire 
knowledge, he gladly accepted the invitation to follow 
such a guide, and heartily did he enjoy his ramble. The 
Professor, having thus proved the capabilities of his com- 
panion, again very kindly asked him to join him in a 
more distant expedition to the south of France, to geo- 
logize, learn French, and prosecute Elementary Mathe- 
matics for Cambridge. An offer in every respect so con- 



30 



MEMORIALS OF 



genial to his tastes, was gladly accepted. He had, until 
now, never penetrated farther south than, on a fishing ex- 
cursion the previous year, to Gala Water, from whose 
banks he had seen with delight the far-off Cheviots. And 
now to visit London and cross the Channel to Paris, and 
travel into the unknown and yet well-known scenes of 
southern France, with every hope of taking Switzerland 
on the way home, was an enchanting prospect ! All 
things being arranged, he left Edinburgh on the last day 
of May, and, arriving in London, thoroughly enjoyed all 
its " sights," from the Houses of Parliament to the Dio- 
rama in Kegent's Park. After a run to Cambridge, the 
scene of his future labours, which, he says, " took his heart 
at first sight, " he returned to London, joined Professor 
Forbes, and with him coached it to Dover. " Here I 
am," he says when landing in France, " fairly landed ; 
I who have been so long pent up in Scotland, being now 
in my twentieth year. I trust my mind may be opened 
and strengthened by this tour, so that it may redound to 
God's glory." In Paris, he was introduced to the world 
of art, which from that day became to him as the gift of 
a new sense. Good music he had known from his infancy ; 
but great paintings he had never seen till now, and the 
effects of this glorious vision, when it first flashes upon 
the mind, they alone can tell who have experienced it. 
But Paris was soon left, and Lyons, the arrowy Khone, and 
the sunny south reached. The district of country through 
which they journeyed, included the Departments of the 
Ardeche and Auvergne, and is one of the most picturesque 
in landscape, as well as remarkable in the field of geology. 
Of singular fertility and beauty, its chief interest lies in 
the history— which is clearly written, as with "a pen of iron 
on the rocks for ever" — of a remote and distant age long 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



31 



antecedent to the creation of man, when fresh-water lakes 
once dotted the surface of the land, on whose banks huge 
mammalia roamed of forms now unknown ; and of a later 
but still far distant period, when those lakes were ele- 
vated by subterranean forces into platforms of dry land, 
while other lakes took their place, and other kinds and 
races of animals tenanted the land and water ; and when 
at last volcanoes, long extinct, became active, and poured 
forth their lava streams, damming up rivers, covering and 
preserving old deposits, forming precipitous and basaltic 
ranges, and, with new-formed mountains and valleys, al- 
tering the whole face of the country. Professor Forbes, 
having visited the district before, was familiar with every 
spot, and was able to guide his young friend to its pic- 
turesque beauties, and to reveal to him its geological 
treasures. Their route from Lyons was by steamer to 
Valence — one of the most superb river-scenes in the world 
— thence to Privas, Aubenas, and Thueys, in the Ardeche, 
and by Langogne and Mende in the Lozere, to the sum- 
mit of the famous Plomb de Cantal, and by Le Puy to 
Lyons. One or two extracts from his brief journal of 
this tour may be given, as it is one to which he always 
looked back with peculiar pleasure. 

" Thursday, June 17. — By steamboat, on Saone, for 
Lyons, at eight. Lovely sail as we advanced. Boat, the 
Hirondeville (or, as our sailors christened it, 'Iron devil'), 
excellent. The Saone is a broad, deep, and in some 
places rapid river, ornamented with frequent suspension 
bridges : even these do not withstand its occasional inun- 
dations. Many pretty villages line its banks, where traces 
of the south become manifest — flat roofs, yellow tiles, 
Venetian blinds. The people too appear primitive in 
dress, certainly ; several of the women's head-pieces were 



32 



MEMORIALS OF 



very singular — round hood, flat brims, with the smallest 
possible chimney stuck upon them. A handsome Pro- 
vencal came on board with his guitar — a fine troubadour- 
looking fellow, with dark Italian eyes, flowing jet ringlets, 
&c. Arrived at Lyons by one. Some of our companions 
of the Diligence have accompanied us thus far : two 
Irish gentlemen, whom I found to be Professors of Theo- 
logy at Maynooth, conducting to the College at Eome a 
raw Irish youth of twenty, who had never been from 
home before, and by his own inclination never would 
have been. Nothing he had seen did he remember or 
wish to remember ; and the thought of Eome made him 
sick at heart. What a singular compound of potatoes 
and butter milk his mind must be ! an embryo priest 
too ! Poor lad ! it will be difficult, however, to instil 
guile into him. The course at the College of Eome is 
five years. 

it p r i vaSt) Sunday, June 20. — After long sleep, rose : at 
half-past eleven to Protestant Church — a modest building 
at the top of the street towards Aubenas. How refreshing 
the sight ! several hundreds of respectable and interesting 
looking people, men as well as women — a rare sight in 
the Popish chapels I have entered. Some soldiers, too. 
After an assistant had read the Scriptures, and psalms 
had been sung, the minister, a devout intelligent-looking 
man, of about thirty, entered the pulpit, and, with his 
prayers and address, which I partially followed, was much 
pleased. The people appeared attentive. On either side 
of the pulpit were printed texts of Scripture, principally 
directed against Popery, and very significantly ending 
with that : 4 Blessed are they that are persecuted for righ- 
teousness' sake/ &c. ; not that Government is intolerant, 
for wherever a sufficient congregation can be raised, a 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



33 



minister is supported by the State ; but the private, and 
perhaps more harassing, persecution is by the Papist po- 
pulation. The sight so unexpected, and the psalm tune 
familiar to my ears, quite overpowered me, perhaps with 
joy that the true Gospel prevailed there, and possibly also 
as reminding me of home. 

" Thursday, June 22. — After breakfast crossed the 
Ardeche. Professor took sketch from a picturesque little 
house half-way up the hill. I bathed near the bridge. 
The lava cut, probably the work of the stream, is very, 
very fine. Returned home by some stairs formed out of 
the natural basaltic columns, called here 1 les echelles du 
roi ' — very remarkable. Paused long to admire and medi- 
tate on the beautiful landscape before me, the luxuriant 
growth of chestnuts, walnuts, and other trees ; the har- 
vest, in little patches, already ripe ; the hay -making dif- 
fusing old familiar fragrance, the little gardens of vines 
and vegetables courting the shade more than the sun, and 
irrigated by gushing rippling sluices that gave a freshness 
to the earth, and indeed to the whole scene ; the stupen- 
dous walls of lava, carrying the thoughts back to oldest 
times, and overhead 'the witchery of the soft blue sky' 
— a sky of southern softness. Such is a faint catalogue 
of the thousand beauties of these valleys ; so far as I am 
aware, little known ; and so far as selfishness is concerned, 
long may they remain so. After dinner, walked with 
Professor to examine the volcanic crater, and the direc- 
tion and spread of its stream." 

After thus spending a month of rare enjoyment, he 
parted from the Professor to return home by the Alps, 
Geneva, and the Rhine. He then records his parting 
with his friend, which I cannot help quoting. 

" .Sunday. July 18. — He (Professor Forbes) accompanied 
c 



34 



MEMORIALS OF 



me for some miles up the hill, commanding a noble view 
of the Isere, then bade me God speed, kissed, and departed 
to return to Grenoble, and thence, by Aug. 12, make for 
the Grimsel with Mr. Heath to meet Agassiz, and study 
the glaciers. I, with a bursting heart, proceeded on my 
lonely way, committing myself and him to God in prayer, 
and endeavouring to direct my thoughts heavenward. 
His kindness to me makes me ashamed of my poor return, 
and my great deficiencies as a companion ; having been, 
I fear, very selfish, taciturn, and foolish in my remarks. 
I trust I have derived benefit from his company, on the 
other hand ; having seen an example in his indefatigable 
energy, his exactness of observation, and acuteness of 
remark ; and, as a traveller, his patience under vexations, 
his total want of selfishness, and his universal kindness of 
heart. God grant that our love may be cemented in 
Christ Jesus, and that we may both live to His glory— 
the only true way to avoid selfishness and every other 
sin. May every blessing, temporal and spiritual, be 
multiplied to him I" 

After parting with the Professor, he spent the night in 
the Convent of the Grande Chartreuse. 

" The Convent of the Grande Chartreuse is situated in a 
deep and lonely valley, surrounded by lofty and strikingly - 
formed hills of limestone. The entrance is very fine. The 
building is extensive and simple. I arrived by half-past 
seven, and was presented to the Superior, with whom I 
spoke for a little ; and was then conducted by a Frere (they 
are divided into Peres and Freres) into the visitor's hall, 
where I found a small party at supper, but did not par- 
take. Was shown into a small but clean bedroom off the 
salle, furnished with a crucifix, figure of the Virgin and 
child, basin of holy water, &c. I wrote for a short time, 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



35 



and as it became very cold, went to bed. They would 
not call me at five, as I wished. 

u Monday, July 19. — Not called : so slept till seven. 
Breakfasted on soup, ill -cooked eggs, dry fish, old bread, 
butter, cheese, bad wine (which I only tasted), elixir — a 
kind of dram which they make and sell — strong, and to 
me unpleasant, Alpine strawberries, figs, and apples ; 
among all which I contrived to make a tolerable repast. 
It was some time before they showed me the convent. 
Meanwhile I made acquaintance with two young French- 
men — one military, the other a civilian, who accompanied 
me. There are about sixty cells ; before the Eevolution, 
the number was much greater. It is the largest in France 
entirely for monks. These have each little cells (which 
I could not visit) into which their frugal fare is thrust, 
and a little garden. On Sundays and feasts they dine 
together, but do not speak. They have a good library, 
theological, classical, and historical. The dress is of white 
wool, head shaved, &c. ; and it is to this, for which I 
know of no authority in Scripture or right reason, that 
many in England would seek to return l" 

Xext day he proceeded on his journey to Chamouni. 
In a letter to his friend Boyle, he says — "I was by 
this time half delirious. You will see whither I was 
whirling — to Chamouni ! The rest is as a giddy dream. 
I walked thither, and over a Col (called Bellevue) com- 
manding a view of the valley and a host of glaciers, with 
the Arve raving at my feet; then descended in the 
evening, visiting a lovely glacier by the way ; next day, 
with a party of various foreigners, I walked over the 
Mer de Glace until we reached the Jar din, returning 
late at night to Chamouni. The day following, I walked 
to Geneva, not less than fifty miles. On Thursday 



3G 



MEMORIALS OF 



evening, Blanc and his compeers were lit up at sunset 
with a heavenly glow — the finest that has been seen 
this year." 

After remaining some days in Geneva, and becoming 
acquainted with several of the clergy — an acquaintance 
soon renewed, he pursued his way homeward, enjoy- 
ing the glories of the Ehine and the reminiscences of 
Waterloo. On landing at Granton from the steamer, he 
says in his Journal, " August 9. — Arrived by nine at 
Granton. Good passage ; could have kissed the shores 
of dear Scotland ! " 

The next six months were spent at Gecldes, in the 
quiet of home. His time was, as usual, divided from 
morning till night. This method, in study, was not con- 
fined, to the minute arrangement of time merely ; but was 
extended to recording, in various common-place books, 
what he had read each day, month, and year, with classi- 
fied memoranda of what had been acquired u and mas- 
tered thoroughly This love of order amounted in him 
almost to a tyranny, against which he would sometimes 
rebel, but in whose iron rule he felt soon compelled by 
his temperament to acquiesce. With all the advantages 
which it conferred, he was quite alive to some of the evils 
which it entailed. The studies, for instance, of a whole 
day were often disturbed, and his temper fretted, if the 
work arranged for one hour was interrupted or forced 
into the next. He acknowledged, and often lamented, 
the selfishness and want of consideration for the legitimate 
demands of family and friends, which were apt to be pro- 
duced by his resistance to the almost unavoidable encroach- 
ments of both, upon the time otherwise disposed of by rule. 
It was positive suffering the constant effort to adjust the 
claims of labour, which seemed to him to be imperative, 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



37 



with those of the home affections, which, however delight- 
ful, appeared too much akin to idleness and self-indulg- 
ence. Yet no man needed more, that the rigorous ex- 
actions of the former should be softened, refreshed, and 
humanized by the soothing influences of the latter. And 
therefore home, whose very charms looked as stumbling- 
blocks in his way as a student, was on that very account 
the best place for him as a man, whose heart, as well as 
head, required cultivation. It would have added more to 
his happiness, and, humanly speaking, to his life, if he 
had been able to see the goodness and wisdom of Provi- 
dence in such domestic arrangements, which check and 
modify self-will too sternly bent in carrying out its own 
plans and purposes, however excellent in themselves. 
But though no man more passionately loved home, the 
student carried the day, whose earthly paradise is his own 
room, in a University town at home or abroad. 

But there is one feature in his plan of study for 
every day, characteristic of his later as well as of his 
earlier years ; the time, namely, which was spent in 
devotion and the study of the Holy Scriptures. Two 
hours in the morning — from rive to seven, an hour at 
mid- day, half-an-hour before dinner, a short time before 
retiring to rest, were daily spent in Scripture and devo- 
tion. Many entries in his Diary like the following also 
occur, showing his earnestness: — "Friday, Sept. 3. — 
Resolved to devote till two to reading, meditation, and 
prayer, that, by God's blessing, my aim may be made 
more single in all I do.''' " Sept 9. — Eose early and re- 
solved to dedicate till two to study of Scriptures and 
prayer." " Sept 17. — Devoted morning and forenoon to 
Scriptures, prayer, &c," 

He now appears to have begun with greater earnest- 



38 



MEMORIALS OF 



nesa to do good to others, by direct communication with 
them, which was by no means an easy task for one 
naturally so shy and sensitive. Duty, however, made it 
a growing habit all his life afterwards. 

u Sept. 11. — Kode with . Endeavoured to intro- 
duce religion, and press it upon his attention as the first 
business of his life, to which every other lawful occupa- 
tion would fit in always well as second. Pressed study 
of Bible as the chief thing, and its doctrines as admirably 
condensed in the 4 Confession of Faith,' which I gave 
him. May the Spirit of God impress him ! for my tongue 
was that of a stammerer in Christ's service. that it 
were more my meat and drink to draw souls to Christ in 
His strength ! 

" Sept. 12. — A few words with dear but inter- 
rupted when I hoped it was tending to good. May the 
Lord lead her to Himself from every other false source of 
happiness ! 

" Sept. 19. — Evening, read to, and spoke much with 

, on the necessity of regeneration, and now to choose 

Christ. Advised daily perusal of God's Word with. prayer, 
which alone would make any other study useful, and give 
depth in it, from regarding it as unto God, apart even from 
the cultivation of the mind, by reading, meditation, and 
prayer, through the Spirit. All pursuits and studies to 
be done in God's Spirit. I prayed with her, and recom- 
mended two hoars, at least, to be devoted to such studies. 
May God in His mercy draw her to Christ, and every 
member of the family !" 

But even amidst those sunny days at Geddes, there ap- 
pear, for the first time, symptoms of sadness, which more 
frequently returned in after years ; and which, though 
seldom discovered by others, was often painfully ex- 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



39 



perienced by himself. This was always occasioned, I 
believe, in his case, by the state of his bodily health. He 
became subject to attacks of dyspepsia : having, at the 
same time, a great dislike ever to allude to bodily ail- 
ments, or to have recourse to medical treatment. I do 
not mean to assert that such physical causes will always 
account for those spiritual sorrows frequently experienced 
by the servant of God, " who walks in darkness, and 
hath no light." Apart from the pain of a conscience 
troubled by neglect of known duty, or any departure from 
God, there are souls who, in their progress heavenward, 
and while educating for the enjoyments and employments 
of immortality, seem destined to endure conflicts and 
experience sorrows which cannot be accounted for by any 
physical causes with which we are acquainted. We 
doubt not there are depths, the only escape from which 
is directly from God — agonies in which the sufferer 
can find no support or relief but in praying M more 
earnestly.' ' But I have as little doubt that in many 
cases in which true Christians complain of the " hidings 
of God's countenance," of darkness, and depression — the 
cause is solely physical disease : and, what is more to the 
purpose here to observe, produced not un frequently by an 
obstinate disregard to the will of God, as expressed in the 
human constitution, made up of soul and body ; and by 
which a certain amount of repose, relaxation, and exer- 
cise are essential to the right working of both. Let me 
earnestly press it upon young and ardent students, that it 
is a very mistaken manliness to despise the demands of 
the body ; that it is no self-denial but self-indulgence, to 
sacrifice health and life in the pursuit of knowledge. 
Let me remind them that God will make them respon- 
sible for every talent committed to them, and for shorten- 



40 



MEMORIALS OF 



ing those days which might have been many ; and for 
turning those hours into darkness and distress which 
might have been hours of sunshine and peace. That 
must be no small sin in the eye of God, which He so 
often visits with an early death or premature old age ; 
and which has deprived many a family of its most pre- 
cious treasure, and the Church of its brightest hopes ! 

He writes : " Monday, Aug, 23. — My mind all day very 
clouded. I am in great spiritual darkness ; my mind has 
got hold of some difficulty with regard to repentance and 
faith, which I can neither grasp nor dispel ; I can only 
cry, £ Lord, for Jesus' sake, teach me ! 1 and wait in pa- 
tience for His guidance. I am continually trying to recover 
the light, but ineffectually. Thanks be unto God, I can 
hope in His mercy ; meanwhile, my active plans are 
stopped, and I move languidly.' 7 Though this depression 
continues for some time, and though it was referred by 
him, as it generally is, to mere spiritual causes, yet it 
soon gives way to a more cheerful state of things. He 
takes medicine and exercise, and we find him according] y 
saying, in a few days afterwards—" Felt my deadness 
much removed ; and again, " Kose early, and enjoyed 
morning reading and prayer." 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



41 



CHAPTEK III. 

CAMBRIDC4E JOINS THE FREE CHURCH — THE LAKES LETTER FROM 

REV. MR. MADDEN LETTER FROM JOHN SHA1RP, ESQ., RUGBY. 

Cambridge had long been a delightful vision to John 
Mackintosh. He yearned to realize his dreams of study in 
that venerable home of learning, and there to become more 
thoroughly accomplished for the work of the ministry, in 
whatever portion of the vineyard — whether in the Scotch 
or English Church — he was to be occupied. In the sum- 
mer of 1839, when at Gecldes, he thus wrote about Cam- 
bridge to his friend Daly ell. While these letters are 
characteristic of that free and hearty intercourse in which 
he indulged with his intimate friends, they were written 
during that period I have already alluded to, when he 
was not living in his habitual earnestness of spirit. 

" Geddes, June 13, 1839. 
" My dear Dal yell, — I was delighted to receive your 
letter, which I should have answered by return of post, 
had I not left home that very day, and have only now 
returned. I have been in one of the wildest parts of In- 
verness-shire — a very world of hills, and therefore after 
my own heart. I am sure I should become a 4 downright 
genuine' poet, were I to live long in such a country. In 
my travels I met with a Cantab, who, on the chord being 



42 



MEMORIALS OP 



touched, raved on the theme like the rest of the alumni 
whom I have had the pleasure or misfortune to meet. 
He strongly recommended me to go up October first, but 
dis aliter visum. Nothing you have written me of read- 
ing has astonished me, except by its ease. We might 
have got it up years ago. With regard to Plato, I am 
sorry I cannot answer your questions, having been en- 
gaged hitherto in finishing a play of iEschylus, of which 
I had read a little before leaving Edinburgh. However, 
as you do not mean to read any for some time, I shall 
give you my report when I begin him. I am reading 
Kelland, and though rather a rebrousse poil, have better 
hopes of myself. Mathematics I shall never forswear." 

TO THE SAME. 

" Geddbs, Sept. 16, 1839. 
" Thanks to a terrific day of rain, for an opportunity 
to answer my correspondents, who, thank goodness, are few 
and select ; for the bore of writing to one you don't care 
about is intolerable. There are some I should like to hear 
from, but who never write me a line, e.g. Shairp. I would 
write him an abusive letter if I knew where to find him ; 
but my letter might make a circuit of the kingdom before 
reaching him. Boyle, too, is very lazy. What can he be 
going to do next winter ? If he is neither going to the 
Continent, nor to Edinburgh, nor to Glasgow, nor to an 
English University, he must be going to teach the parish 
school in Irvine, or to take a sheep farm, or something of 
that sort. Next winter my father thinks of letting his 
house in Edinburgh, as my brother is going to India, 
and it is nonsense keeping it for me alone. So I expect 
to lodge, and mean to write to Boyle for some insight 
into that new method of existence ; unpleasant, I calcu- 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



43 



late, but only to last for six months. Good preparation 
for Cambridge too. After these six months, what visions 
of delight float before my eyes ! — never, I do believe, to 
be realized ; for, in the first place, I expect to turn out 
a beast at Cambridge, as I am making progress at present 
in no study of any one kind. Nothing but Charles 
O'Malley, tours in Germany, and such like, can I find 
opportunity to read. that I was certain of being 
allowed to travel ! It forms my waking and sleeping 
dream ; and a man who does not travel is only half a 
man — a cross between that biped and plum -pudding. 
Such a rhapsody of nonsense requires a Latin quotation : 
Dolce est desipere in loco. With Stuart I have had no 
communication ; and therefore heard by mere chance of 
his disaster. He is so near that I have never written 
him — if you understand the principle on which that goes 
— but shall do so this very day, and invite him here, or 
myself there. The British Association is this week. I 
wish I were going now instead of formerly. What a 
bustle they will be in ! the professors, I mean. I have 
been reading Taylor's Ancient Christianity, and recom- 
mend it as very interesting and instructive. 

" Am improving with the gun. Heard from Halley. 
Still in statu quo. Write me soon, and believe me ever 
yours affectionately/ 7 

His winter (1840) preparation for Cambridge was 
more earnest than that of summer. He had by this time 
become alive again. In a subsequent letter to Dalyell, 
written from Edinburgh in November, he says : " My 
lodgings, for study, are glorious ! I am troubled with 
invitations, but these I obstinately refuse : never budge 
out. As for parties, Boyle and I are resolved to shave 



44 



MEMORIALS OF 



one side of our heads (having no beards to operate on) to 
prevent the very idea of such a thing*. In plain earnest, 
we are working very hard with Forbes, who is an ex- 
cellent Professor. " 

Then followed in summer his tour abroad, and his re- 
turn in autumn to Greddes. As the time approached for 
his entering upon this new era of his life at Cambridge, 
his thoughts became more and more solemnized. The 
evening before he leaves home, he thus writes — 

" October 10. — To-morrow I start. How graciously 
has the Lord dealt with me here ! that I may have 
been made useful to some ! I am full of fear for the 
trials that may await me ; even the dissipation of mind 
and of heart which a week's voyage may occasion. May 
I walk in Christ, and be kept from backsliding ! In 
all I do, may I have a single eye, that my whole body 
may be full of light ! " 

The following Saturday he was in Cambridge, and a 
student of Trinity. 

There is little recorded by him of his Cambridge 
career, from its commencement in October 1841, until 
its ending in June 1843. It was made up of a routine 
of quiet and earnest discharge of duty. He studied hard ; 
enjoyed the society of a few friends ; got much good — 
as many have done — from Dean Cams ; and upon Sab- 
bath evenings engaged in his old and favourite work of 
Sabbath- school teaching. 

"Sunday, Oct. 24. — Kesolved, in the new week, to 
endeavour through the Spirit to walk more closely with 
God. If need be, to devote seven till eight evening to 
Scriptures and prayer ; to bed by eleven, and rise at five ; 
spending from half-past five till half-past seven, one till 
two, and seven till eight, in using the means of grace. I 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



45 



shall thus have only five hours for study ; but ' better is 
little with the fear of the Lord/ &c. I am in a vortex 
of ambition and honours' seeking, and the past week has 
been too much conformed to the same spirit. I believe 
that while this continues, my studies cannot be blessed. 
Lord, deliver me, and give me a single eye to Christ's 
glory and service. 

u Nov. 20. — May the Lord enable me to live more 
closely in His presence, that when I lie down and rise up, 
I may realize it as it actually is, to revive and comfort. 
May He prepare me for His service, and lead me here 
and everywhere to make that the very object of my 
being ; and therefore, spiritual exercises the principal 
part of my education. Lord, prepare me for Thy Sab- 
bath and its enjoyment." 

" Nov. 24. — To-morrow, the Lord's supper is celebrated 
in College. May I receive the preparation of the heart 
from God ; a deeper insight of my need, and Christ's 
power and willingness to cleanse. 

" Thursday, Nov. 25. — Set apart the day for religious 
exercise. At eleven, sacrament in College. Sermon 
from Whewell — 4 1, therefore, the prisoner of the Lord,' 
&c. ; very solemn communion. Felt a good deal of reali- 
zation of my position before God by nature and by grace. 
God grant that all who this day partook may indeed be 
grafted into Christ. 

" Saturday, Dec. 4. — This week have been more punc- 
tual to hour of rising at five ; had more alacrity in business, 
and sweeter thoughts of God, though how deficient still ! 
how often total deadness ! and yet I ought and might 
walk continually in God's presence and service, for He is 
at all times ready waiting to give me strength. may 
He convince me of my own weakness, and lead me by 



46 



MEMORIALS OF 



His Spirit to follow Him with singleness of heart ; ready 
to sacrifice whatever interferes with my duty to Him. 
Have been much discomfited by forgetting His presence 
in study, and attacks of carnal ease. 

" Thursday, Dec. 16. — My first term is ended, and the 
retrospect is in many respects a pleasant one. Surely I 
may say, Goodness and mercy have followed me through- 
out. I am the subject of many blessings. What oppor- 
tunities for religious and intellectual attainment ! Heavenly 
Father, let not my abuse of them provoke Thee to cast 
me off, but quicken me by Thy Spirit to rejoice in Christ 
Jesus, and put no confidence in the flesh, while Thou 
sparest me here below. Enable me in Christ to spend 
this new period on which I have entered, redeeming the 
time to Thy glory ! 

" Saturday, Dec. 18. — Here ends an epoch of labour. 
Next fortnight I shall be from home. May the Lord 
keep me near Himself, and enable me to redeem the time. 
Have some doubts if I do not sit too much at desk, and 
so work without vigour. More sleep (at present six hours) 
may perhaps be expedient. May I be enabled to form 
my plans for the future with a single eye to God's glory, 
and by His guidance. 

" Sunday, Dec. 19. — that it were my meat and drink 
to do His will ; and that I may have grace to walk near 
Him during my visits to my friends, to which 1 have 
been looking forward with too much selfish eagerness; 
that I may have a single eye in all my intercourse with 
them, and may adore Him the Giver of every good thing 
and enjoyment.' ' 

After spending his holidays in London with his sister, 
Mrs. Smith, he returned to Cambridge in January 1842. 
After arranging his time, from five in the morning till 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



47 



night, lie says — " Thus I have six hours for study, and 
five for actual devotion. May I be thus strengthened for 
my Master's service." 

TO HIS AUNT, MISS C. JOLLIE. 

" Cambridge, Jan. 6. 
" My dearest Aunt, — I received your delightful letter 
before leaving Cambridge, and that accompanying the 
parcel in London. For both I am much indebted to you. 
I joined dear C. on the 21st of last month, and, with the 
exception of a few days at Bletchingley, remained with 
her till two clays ago. I enjoyed my visit exceedingly, 
and feel much refreshed by it. Hermitically inclined as 
T fancied myself, I have more truly been put to the test 
before now ; and the result is, I find social intercourse is a 
very important part of my happiness and cheerfulness. 
That, it seems almost impossible to have here, as I could 
wish it, from the ways and habits of the place ; and this 
indeed, from my first term's experience, is the only charge 
which I have to make against Cambridge — probably the 
fault lies with myself. I found C. very cheerful : reading 
much conduces to this. She was deeply interested in 
D'Aubigne ; and if, as I trust, she deeply feels what she 
expressed to me in some private talks, showing a most 
clear and simple understanding of the offices of Christ 
and the Holy Spirit, my mind will be truly thankful and 
at rest." 

It is interesting to notice his care for his Sabbath-class. 
He visited the children in their houses. He prepared the 
lessons carefully which he was to teach, and prayed 
earnestly for those who were to be taught. " Taught 
school," he writes one Sabbath evening, " without much 



48 



MEMORIALS OF 



comfort ; children ill prepared, and inattentive. May 
this not be traced to my own remissness in prayer for 
them ? I devote an hour for this on Sunday morning, yet 
too often allow it to be curtailed. May the Lord fill me 
with more concern for their immortal souls, and more 
zeal in His behalf who loves little children." At a subse- 
quent period, he thus writes : — " Prepared for school too 
slightly. Earnest prayer for the children must be more 
attended to." On a Sabbath morning : — " Although not 
asleep till twelve last night, rose between four and five ; 
yet taught in Sabbath -school with more comfort than 
usual." And again, in the midst of his studies, he adds : 
— " Visited my Sabbath-scholars." Would that Sab- 
bath-school teachers, who consider themselves sufficiently 
well-informed to instruct their class without any special 
preparation for it, learned a lesson from the humility and 
earnestness of this Cambridge student. 

In all his difficulties he has recourse to prayer — 

" Feb. 23, 1842. — Feeling much darkness and deadness, 
set apart evening for prayer and devotion. But my heart 
still uninterested. I propose to fast, and set apart thus 
every Wednesday evening, trusting that it may be a 
means in God's hands of quickening my soul and advan- 
cing me in the Divine life. Lord, lift Thou up the light 
of Thy countenance upon me." 

The following remarks upon his habits of study may 
be of use to the student : — 

" Saturday, March 5. — Another landing-place for re- 
flection most rapidly come round. During the past week 
I have striven, I may say panted, to progress in my dif- 
ferent studies. Have felt, too, a keen relish for them ; 
and thinking that my system of hours trammelled me by 
forcing me to thwart an inclination often that might have 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



49 



got me forward, I disregarded them occasionally, some- 
times reducing sleep to little more than four hours, yet 
the result confirms me in my method. The next day 
always suffered, being devoid of energy, and full of lassi- 
tude.' A single vigorous hour is worth many such. I have 
been enabled sometimes to lean on the Spirit's help, and 
commit all to God ; acquiescing not in a slothful spirit, 
but in endeavours crowned apparently with but slight 
success. Lord, give me a single eye to Thy glory, and 
make me 4 fervent in spirit' in Thy service. 7 ' 

But alas ! in spite of such experiences, he writes in a 
few weeks afterwards — 

" March 23. — Feel strong desire to progress more 
rapidly in studies ; and last night sat up till two, to- 
night twelve, wishing to increase my hours of study ; 
yet I expect I will be forced back to the old system as 
healthiest and best. 

u Thursday, 24. — Studied with little intermission, save 
for meals, from eight a.m. to one a.m. following !" 

He is again warned. 

"Friday, April 1. — Walk with . A little tract 

which he has lent me has, I trust, given me some insight 
into the folly of my departure this last week from my 
rules of study, neglecting exercise and sleep ; the conse- 
quence of which is, that every one remarks my looks, and 
I have brought on considerable deafness. I trust it is a 
timely warning, to be rendered permanent by God's Spirit. 
The greatest sin is that, in this false zeal, I have been 
quenching the Spirit, neglecting my hours of devotion. 
Heavenly Father, restore me the light of Thy countenance, 
and the fellowship of Thy Spirit, pardoning my sin, and 
hearing my prayer, for His sake alone who is my Media- 
tor at Thy right hand." 

D 



50 



MEMORIALS OF 



He had thoughts at this time of going with a reading 
party to Bonn or Heidelberg — a project which he after- 
wards realized, and wrote to his father asking his consent. 
He waited anxiously for the reply. It is an instance of 
his self-denial and meek submission to what he believed 
to be right, that his father's letter having come to him 
on Sabbath morning, he " deferred opening it, knowing 
its contents would be most interesting and engross his 
thoughts." But having opened it next day, he writes : — 
" April 25. — Most kind permission, with also a sufficient 
sum of money inclosed, to go to Germany. Whole con- 
tents most kind. May the Lord make me grateful for my 
mercies and opportunities, and for my affectionate father, 
and so many friends ! How can I think of my responsi- 
bility for turning all this to account for Christ, save in 
trusting to His own strength ! Lord, guide me in this 
thing. Give me the single eye. If this scheme is for 
Thy glory and my good, let it come to pass ; if other- 
wise, frustrate it ; and give me a contented heart, for 
Christ's sake." 

TO HIS YOUNGEST SISTER. 

" Cambridge, Oct. 29, 1841. 
" ... It does me good, and, in God's hands, will do us 
both good, to occupy some part of our letters on our 
spiritual improvement. I do hope, dearest, that the Lord 
is leading you, through the use of means which it is your 
part to use, to a greater knowledge, and, consequently, 
love of Himself through Jesus Christ. 4 God is love,' 
and the apprehension of Him as such, is what fills the 
believing soul with all grace and spiritual gifts. And oh ! 
what gifts are those of the Spirit— 4 love, joy, peace,' &c. 
(Gal. v. 22.) Strive for these, in comparison with which 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



51 



all that the world can grve is but dross. Pray that we 
may count all things loss for the excellent knowledge 
of Christ Jesus our Lord. Be diligent, love, in reading 
the Scriptures with meditation and prayer ; and to have 
your affections in heaven, walking here as a pilgrim in 
the armour of the Spirit. Do not let us forget each other, 
and all we love, in our prayers. It is very profitable for 
our own souls to pray for the welfare of others. I would 
suggest that, whenever it is possible, you would get good 
from going with mother to the sweet prayer-meetings at 
Burnside — a privilege which I would gladly share. There 
are many of God's people attend them, and by listening 
to their prayers, you would gain much practical know- 
ledge. 

" When you write, I hope you will throw off all reserve, 
and just write from the heart as if we were talking to- 
gether. It will carry me back to the happy time we 
spent at Gedcles, if you will write on these or other studies, 
or whatever interests you. 

" I continue to be very happy and comfortable at Cam- 
bridge, through that goodness which has followed me all 
the days of my life. The only want is the acquaintance 
of some advanced Christians, which is so beneficial to the 
young ; but this will be supplied as the Lord sees fit.' 7 

TO THE SAME. 

"Dec. 11, 1841. 

" . . . Keep this in mind, that a little, a very little, well 
learned, in however long a period, is more available and 
more healthful for the mind than a great field of undi- 
gested knowledge which soon leaves you, and is positively 
injurious to the faculties of your mind. Perhaps you 
have Latin enough to understand an invaluable rule . and 



52 



MEMORIALS OF 



proverb, which I often repeat to myself before beginning 
a study : 4 ISTon multa sed multurn.' 

" You will find it give vigour, however, to your work, 
to mark out a particular portion which you should like to 
get over in your time set for it. Let this be determined 
by a few trials of how much you actually can master. 
Let it even be within this, so as not to be ambitious, and 
getting discouraged by not accomplishing it ; and then, 
as you already do, revise this at stated times till it 
actually becomes part and parcel of your mind, thoroughly 
mastered. Eeally the greatest part of education is to 
teach us how to acquire profitably. Actual knowledge 
soon follows when the mind has acquired a wholesome 
system of learning. 

" But what is the object of this study ? If for our own 
gratification only, it cannot be blessed — it can never make 
us really happy ; but oh ! if pursued for Christ's service, 
that we may use the powers He has graciously purchased 
for us to promote the knowledge and love of Him in our- 
selves and others — what a joy and pleasure in them ! 
We may then pray for His Spirit to put us in the right 
method ; and being for Himself, surely He will give it. 
Study everything in deep humility, as a little child realiz- 
ing His actual presence, and frequently looking up in 
prayer to Him who feeds His lambs, and carries them in 
His bosom. What a sweet confidence you will have ! 
No anxiety and disappointment. The matter is in His 
hands. You have cast all your care upon Him, and He 
careth for you. He can and will bring all things to pass 
for your good. Dearest, give your heart and soul and 
strength and mind to the humble prayerful study of His 
blessed Word. This only can make you wise unto salva- 
tion. This is the knowledge that will endure, and give 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



53 



sure peace here. Nay, you must : if you apply, make 
progress in this knowledge ; and it is literally true that 
it makes the simple wise. It will give a discretion, a 
progress, and a zest to all other knowledge and lawful 
employment, that will make you wise above your fellows. 
I hope that out of what I have written here, knowing my 
need to he taught myself, yet, having prayed that I may 
be of some use to you, you may glean something that will 
answer its intention." 

TO THE SAME. 

M Cambridge, Jan. '2'2. 1842. 
" The great evil is forgetfulness of God, who made us 
4 to live, and move, and have our being' in Him. Let us 
then seek, dear, to recover this sense of His presence, and 
really to walk with God, doing all to Him from the least 
act to the greatest. Cherish a thankful spirit, not only 
for great mercies, but for the very least. Do you hear of 
anything that pleases you, or receive anything, will you 
not enjoy it still more if you recognise it as coming from 
the Father of mercies, and make it matter of praise in 
your prayers ? Deal not with vague petitions in these, 
but introduce into them the wants and occurrences of 
every-day life. So shall they be uttered from the heart 
to a Father who will surely answer." 

In the month of May he resolved to speud the summer 
vacation with a reading party, near Keswick. He left 
Cambridge accordingly at the end of May, and, accom- 
panied by his friend Mr. Madden, journeyed first of ail 
to Scotland ; and joining his family, who were then in 
Edinburgh, went north immediately to Geddes. After 
enjoying a quiet month at home, he proceeded to Brow- 
top, near Keswick, where his friends Fenn, Kingdon, 



54 



MEMORIALS OF 



and Preston, had taken up their summer residence. With 
the exception of a visit paid to me in Ayrshire, for a few 
days, he remained here revelling in the luxury of books 
and vigorous study, with exquisite scenery and joyous 
walks, until October, when he once more was busy at 
his work in Trinity. 

" Geddes, June 20. — Evening, began Life of Sir James 
Mackintosh, No book is really safe for me to read, unless 
my heart be right before God, realizing His presence, 
having an eye to His glory, and a child-like reliance on 
the Spirit, to help me in the work. In this state of 
mind I was not ; and when I know this is not the case, 
how pressing soever be the engagement, my soul would 
not rest till God's face and favour be felt and realized." 

The Lakes. — " Aug. 15. — Have for some time devoted 
from eleven to one to the study of the Scriptures and 
other devotional books, such as Boston, w T ith other exer- 
cises. I propose to continue the practice permanently, 
that, by God ? s blessing, eternity may have the first place 
in my thoughts. I shall learn also, and sing, six verses of 
a psalm, in metre, between morning and evening, thus 
learning all in about a year. 

" Felt considerable pleasure in teaching scholars in the 
Sabbath-school — all in attendance, and sometimes much 
interested. May the Lord guide me in teaching them, 
and bring them all into Christ's fold." 

TO HIS YOUNGEST SISTER. 

" Keswick, August 13. 
"I am convinced the want of reflection and meditation 
is the grand error and misfortune of most around us. Its 
effect is to exalt what is present and trivial, and to make 
the experience of the past and the prospects of the future 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



5 5 



unheeded. Yon remember, dear, there is nothing I so 
much press on you as the practice of this duty ; it is not 
only the noblest exercise of the mind, but the most useful 
also. Turn your eye inward to observe and scrutinize 
the workings and the wickedness of your own heart, but 
especially direct it to the contemplation of God and His 
attributes — the person and work of Christ — the office of 
the Holy Spirit. These are subjects on which we never 
can meditate enough. Bring your heart daily to Christ, 
all polluted as it is by nature, to be cleansed by union 
and communion with Him. Pride is what would ruin us 
all. It is this that makes us so unwilling and even refuse 
to take up the cross of Christ, and bear His reproach, 
because thereby we shall be subjected to contempt from 
our fellow-men. Believe me, it can never be overcome ; 
and no real advance can be made in the improvement of 
character, till we have cast ourselves at Christ's feet, to be 
led by Him and endure whatever He sees meet. I am glad 
you have found something in Watts which suits you. I 
hope you will use all freedom in opening your mind to 
me; as I shall delight to consult together with you for 
our mutual advancement, and I must be a great stranger 
to my own heart were I to think less of you for discover- 
ing in yours what is so abundant in my own. I hope 
your pleasures of study will not be much interfered with 
in summer. Whatever is encroached upon, do not let 
your devotional hours suffer, and the study of the Bible, 
in comparison with which all other studies are dross and 
vanity, 

TO ARCHIBALD BOYLE. ESQ. 

Keswick, Sept. 10. 
-My dear Aechy 7 — Time wears on. and I begin to 
long for another letter from you. ... I must go no further 



56 



MEMORIALS OF 



without hoping that your progress on the 12th ex- 
ceeded your expectations. I hear it is a very good 
grouse season. What does your game-book say? The 
hills here seem to be nearly devoid of game, as they are 
(with some exceptions) of heather. My time for quitting 
draws very nigh, which I shall do with much regret. 
I have seen, a good deal of the beauties at intervals ; 
and certainly the impressions from them on my mind 
are such as I would not willingly let die. ... I once 
thought of getting from Wilson an introduction to old 
4 Wordy ? (Wordsworth). The getting it, I think, would 
be easily managed ; but I, without two ideas in my head 
to rub against another, could not intrude myself into the 
presence of such a giant — a very diplopterus of mind. I 
hope to be with 1ST. some time of the week beginning 
September 18 — towards the end, I think — but shall let you 
know, and lay my commands on you to meet me there, 
4 under the hawthorn in the dale/ " 

Shortly after his return to Cambridge in October, he 
finally resolved not to enter the English Church as a 
minister, and thus communicates his feelings on the sub- 
ject to his father : — 

" Cambridge, Nov. 19, 1842. 
" I know, my dear father, that notwithstanding the 
hint you give me in your letter, you have my advantage 
at heart, wherever the future sphere of my labours may 
be ; and have even looked upon it as no small portion of 
my privilege, that you leave me unbiassed to decide for 
myself. I trust I shall follow the dictates of a clear con- 
science. The knowledge of your wishes on the one hand 
would, I think, far more than counterbalance the prepos- 
sessions of early education on the other ; yet I think I 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



57 



am right in conjecturing that your expectations are not 
sanguine of my entering the English Church, so that dis- 
appointment will not follow either choice. At all events, 
when the time for final decision comes, I shall state dis- 
tinctly to you the grounds of my decision, and may reason- 
ably expect that what appears satisfactory to my mind 
will do so to yours also. 

" I was much concerned to hear of your late ailment, 
and do hope you have completely recovered from it, and 
will be careful of yourself during the coming winter. I 
pray God you may be kept in health and strength, daily 
ripening for His kingdom." 

A few months later he thus sketches, in his Diary, his 
ideal future as a minister in the Church of Scotland : — 

" Thursday, Feb. 2, 1843. — I have sometimes thought 
(and if, d.v., I join the Church of Scotland as a minister, 
which is likely, and have the power in some respects, 
which is unlikely, it should be more than a thought), that 
my wish would be to prove a humble, faithful, minister of 
the New Covenant, in some retired country parish village 
of Scotland, 4 walking with God/ living in Christ, and 
4 full of the Holy Ghost and of power/ to draw sinners to 
Christ ; retaining many of my College hours and habits, 
rising very early, and spending long seasons in com- 
munion with God ; and not a little time, if parish duties 
permitted, in study. So that, perhaps, I might compile 
some industrious and sound book, mainly the fruit of 
Bible study, illustrative of the doctrines of the Confession 
of Faith, Shorter Catechism, or the like : labouring to 
catechise and instruct all ages and classes, as well at their 
homes as from the pulpit, and to establish family wor- 
ship and instruction in every family, as urged in the Con- 



58 



MEMORIALS OF 



fession of Faith ; so that, by the Spirit poured out in 
answer to prayer, the community might be one of awa- 
kened and converted souls, and a heaven might be begun 
on earth : and, at my death, to bequeath a good library to 
the library of the Church, and of a patrimony say of 

, to leave to the Jews' Scheme, and to each 

of the other four, with some memorials to my kinsfolk, 
and my best blessing to the Catholic Church. If I had 
more, I should perhaps bequeath some to establishing 
scholarships, or other encouragements to promising stu- 
dents in the divinity classes (would that on some good 
principle, not quite the English one, there were the same 
in all departments of learning in our Scottish Colleges ; 
and would that, by the way, the Church had the appoint- 
ment of the Theological Professors, I mean all pertaining 
to the Divinity Hall). I might also, if the leadings of God 
were such, devote the maturity of my life, resigning my 
beloved flock to a brother in Christ, in some field of mis- 
sionary labour. How much, if any, of this I may be per- 
mitted to accomplish, God knoweth. Meanwhile, may I 
stand at His beck, waiting to do His bidding : ' Lord, 
what wouldst Thou have me to do ? 1 1 Here am I, send 
me.'" 

In the meantime, he did not relax his labours at 
Trinity ; though the result, as far as high honours were 
concerned, was rather discouraging. The following are 
the only entries in his Journal upon this point : — 

" Tuesday, Dec. 13. — Prizes given in Hall, and re- 
ceived mine for first class. 

" Jan. 27. — A good deal cast down by finding 

fault, very sharply, with my exercise ; and, considering 
some encouraging remarks formerly, I did not expect it. 
Said six hours a day of classics, until I get my degree, 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



59 



might get first class. I trust this may humble me, which 
I much need, and for which, doubtless, the Lord designs 
it. I cannot now be disappointed at failure in obtaining 
honours ; nor can I grieve if I aim singly at the Lord's 
glory. May He stimulate me to persevere amidst dis- 
couragement, believing I shall make what progress is for 
His glory and my own good. 

" April 3. — Called on Mr. G., who advised me to enter 
name for scholarship, which I did. 

u April 22. — Examinations for the scholarship ended. 
Feel a good deal tired. I commit the result into His 
hands, who will order all things for His glory, and my 
own good in this matter. 

" Thursday, April 27. — Walked in to Cambridge by 

seven ; met me, and communicated scholarship list. 

Rendall, Holden, Knox, Grant, Blackburn of my year. 
Thought latterly I might have a chance ; but little or 
nowise disappointed, recognising in it God's appointment 
for the best. I have no interests of my own apart from 
His service, and, having sought to use the means, the 
issue is His. Saw Mr. Heath, who encouraged me to 
hope for success next year if I went in. My classics good. 

"Wednesday, June 7. — Lists out. I in second class, 
which did not surprise me, considering the preponderance 
of Mathematics ; but some in first class whom, I thought, 
I should equal." 

But an event had now occurred, in Scotland, which 
determined his future course. The ecclesiastical conflict 
which had so long intensely engrossed the mind of the 
country was brought to a crisis by the formation of the 
Free Church. John Mackintosh had been no inattentive 
or uninterested observer of what was passing, north of 
the Tweed; the Witness newspaper having been regu- 



60 



MEMORIALS OF 



larly sent to him, while he also corresponded with friends 
holding different views of the much-disputed question ; 
and thus it was, only after long, patient, and prayerful 
deliberation, that he resolved to cast in his lot with those 
who had seen it to be their duty to leave the Established 
Church. He again addressed his father upon his change 
of views, in the following letter : — 

" Cambridge, June 26, 1843. 
" My dearest Father, — I have now made up my 
mind, I trust, by the guidance of God's Spirit, which I have 
sought, to dedicate myself to the service of Christ in the 
Free Church of Scotland. I had come to this decision at 
the close of last week, but allowed the Sabbath to inter- 
vene, that I might spend it in prayer with special reference 
to this subject, and so reconsider and finally determine on 
Monday. I shall now acquaint you with the grounds on 
which I have been led to this. I first examined the 
standards and formularies of the Church of England in 
respect of doctrine, government, and discipline ; and while 
there was much, very much, to admire with all my heart, 
I found that one service alone, without regarding any- 
thing else, would prevent my ever becoming a minister of 
that Church. The service is that of Baptism ; and the 
passage which I could not use is the prayer where the 
priest returns thanks to God for having regenerated the 
infant with His Holy Spirit. The same sentiment is con- 
tained in the Confirmation Service and in the Catechism. 
Now, as I believe baptism to be an outward sign, accom- 
panied only in some cases by the inward and spiritual 
grace of regeneration, and these known to God alone, 
I could not in every case, or indeed in any, assume it as 
actually bestowed. I have read many attempts to explain 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



61 



the passage by ministers of the Church of England, who 
held the same views of baptism as myself ; but none 
which appeared at all satisfactory, and I was struck with 
this fact, that scarcely one understood the passages in 
the same sense which the other attached to them. I was 
confirmed in my objections, by considering the rapid spread 
at this time, of erroneous doctrines on baptism, by the 
Oxford divines, which I cannot but think is to be at- 
tributed in no small degree to the ambiguity of the Bap- 
tismal Services. 

" I next proceeded to consider, in the same way, the 
Church of Scotland ; and while I found nothing to object 
to in her standards, my principal attention was directed to 
the recent controversy, which I followed in its details, as 
far as lay in my power. I came to the conclusion which 
I have mentioned, for two very clear reasons : First, I 
could never be a party to intrude a pastor on a congrega- 
tion against their will. Second, I would never enter a 
Church which has surrendered the power of the keys, 
intrusted to them by Christ, to a civil magistrate. 

u I feel quite satisfied that both these points are practi- 
cally recognised in the Establishment, and that they are 
insuperable objections, especially the last, which seems to 
me to strike at the very existence of a Church of Christ. 
With this I desire to feel no change of love towards those 
who view it in a different light ; but I also hope to be 
allowed to act on my own convictions. 

" And now, my dear father, I must say that while my 
course is clear, I write in great heaviness of heart. In 
the first place, it is a bitter pang to leave this place, my 
congenial friends and my quiet study, where I have spent 
many happy days ; but much greater than this is the 
knowledge of the grief it will give you, from whom I 



62 



MEMORIALS OF 



have never received anything but the very greatest kind- 
ness, and the highest advantages I could receive : and 
lastly, I cannot shut my eyes to the fact, that I am about 
to join a despised and destitute Church, in which scarcely 
any of my friends sympathize with me. I cannot face all 
or any of these trials of myself ; but cast my burden upon 
the Lord, who has promised to sustain it. I pray that He 
may incline your heart to acquiesce, and that my way may 
be made plain before me. I know that your objection 
will proceed from a desire for my welfare ; but I do not 
seek an earthly portion, and am content, by God's grace, 
to suffer the loss of all things, that I may serve Christ 
according to conscience. 

" I called on Mr. Heath this morning to inform him of 
my decision, and to have my name taken off the books. 
He has always been most kind to me, and now at parting 
expressed to me his esteem. I think of going from this 
to Oxford, and thence to London by railway. A good 
many of my old school-fellows are there, and I should 
thus see the sister University before leaving England. 
With warmest love to mother, — I remain your very at- 
tached son, John Mackintosh." 

He thus alludes, in his Diary, to the same important 
event in his life : — 

u June 26. — Having prayerfully and carefully ex- 
amined, so far as I could, the Church of England, Scot- 
tish Establishment, and Free Church of Scotland, in 
respect of doctrine, worship, government, and discipline, I 
have come to the conclusion, without hesitation, to enter 
the last, if the Lord spare me to become a minister. 
The baptismal service is, of itself, an effectual barrier to 
the first ; and as I consider the doctrines — first, that no 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



63 



pastor be intruded on a people against their will ; and 
second, that the power of the keys be exercised exclu- 
sively by the Church — of far greater moment even than 
an Establishment, I have no choice but to enter the last. 
Among the books that I have consulted are Hooker, 
Soames, Strype, Bramhall, Boyd, Gillespie, Rutherford, 
Calderwood, &c. ; besides the respective formularies and 
standards. Acquainted Mr. H. with my decision. He very 
kindly arranged to have my name taken off the boards. 

" Thursday, June 29. — Started at half-past eight for 
Oxford, bidding adieu to Cambridge, perhaps for ever. 
Passed through St. ISTeot's, Bedford, &c. ; pretty drive, 
especially latter half. Spirits sad, and my future pro- 
spects, if I am spared, impressed me much." 

And thus he left Cambridge, and it w T as indeed for 
ever. But he left it because he believed God was leading 
him, though he knew not whither ! Like Luther, he 
could have said, " God help me ! but I cannot do other- 
wise 1" And so he never looked back with regret to this 
or any other step in life which he had unselfishly taken, 
and with a single eye to please His Father in heaven, in 
whose hands he ever desired to be as a little child. 

After spending a day at Oxford with his friend Mr. 
Shairp, he journeyed home. But the following letters, 
kindly sent to me, about those days, will show that 
they are yet fresh in the memories of some who knew and 
loved him well. The first is from the Eev. Mr. Madden, 
incumbent of Trinity Church, Wakefield ; the other from 
John Shairp, Esq., Rugby School, containing also remi- 
niscences of an earlier period of J ohn Mackintosh's life. 

" Wakefield, April 3, 1854. 
" . . . I knew him well, and loved him much. We sat 



64 



MEMORIALS OF 



together in the class-room of Professor Kelland, at the 
University of Edinburgh, but never spoke. In my fresh- 
man's term at Cambridge, in October or November 1841, 
we met as he was coming out of Trinity College gate. 
His face brightened up. I reminded him of Scotland. 
We shook hands, and from that time were friends. Those 
who knew him at Cambridge, will not easily forget the 
rooms in which, for the greater portion of his time, he 
lodged, or, as the University phrase is, kept, so exactly 
were they suited to the man. At the end of a passage in 
a house in Trinity Street, a small staircase led to his two 
rooms above. At the top of this staircase, a green baize 
door shut out all the world : it was most generally closed. 
I and a few friends had a private signal, by means of 
which we could induce him to open it ; but I have more 
than once given this signal in vain ; I heard afterwards, 
that had his own brother been at the door, he would not 
have been admitted. 

" Whether these were times of intense mental labour, 
or of special communion with God, I never knew. He 
did not often speak of his own method of study, or times 
of prayer. Yet his life at Cambridge was in every point 
the student's life. He came with a fixed intention of 
taking a degree, but chiefly for the benefit of the Uni- 
versity course. And most thoroughly did he take ad- 
vantage of it. I believe I might say with truth, that 
during the two years of his residence at Cambridge, he 
never lost an hour. His time for rising in the morning, 
even in winter, was about five. To insure this, he had 
an alarum in his room ; and that he might not sleep too 
heavily for it to awake him, he slept with very light 
covering. Until chapel time, seven o'clock, he studied 
in a room without fire, often with his fingers dead with 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



6 5 



cold. And all this, not from any superstitions and un- 
christian idea that there was merit in it, from which 
he was singularly free, but simply to attain his object — 
time to get through his appointed work. It is not with- 
out feelings of sorrow that I remember these habits. We 
have lost him, and were not these partially the cause ? 
When I first knew him, he seemed to have an iron con- 
stitution ; but few frames could have borne his unceasing 
mental toil. I know that in after years, he felt he had com- 
mitted a mistake, I remember his telling me in Beading, 
that he rejoiced to find a man who could sleep till seven 
or half-past in the morning. He had experienced the 
difference in vigour of mind and body, when he had begun 
to allow himself sufficient rest. At Cambridge, it is the 
habit with reading men, whatever may be the hour at 
which they commence in the morning, to study, including 
lectures and private tutor, until two p.m. Our dear 
friend's hours were long, for he began so early ; but they 
were not un varied. John Welsh could not pass the 
night without rising to pray. John Mackintosh could 
not study from five till two without more than once turn- 
ing to the Bible and to God. I know not how often : but 
I well remember how, in his quiet and expressive way, 
with one of his own smiles, he told me where he sought 
refreshment. At two p.m., most men turn out to walk, 
or ride, or boat. Our friend's usual exercise was walking. 
It is customary to make engagements, and not to spend 
this time alone. John Mackintosh had many companions, 
and most of them looked forward to the pleasure of a 
walk with him. I enjoyed this privilege usually once a 
week ; and a privilege certainly it was. Our day was 
Saturday. Many an earnest conversation I have had 
with him in the fields round Cambridge. His mind 

E 



66 



MEMORIALS OF 



constantly bent one way. Something about Christ, or 
the ministry, or Christian doctrine ; or if Scotland — and 
Scotland was a favourite theme — Scotland's church, and 
Scotland's worthies, and Scotland's faith ; the very rivers 
and hills of his own loved land suggested thoughts of 
Jesus and His truth. These walks have a hold on my 
memory which it never can let slip. Yet much as he 
enjoyed the society of his friends, certain days were set 
apart, and not at very distant intervals, for solitary walks. 
He loved communion with man, but he loved better 
fellowship with God. These quiet rambles were seasons 
of great refreshment. I never heard him say much about 
them. I judge only from the manner, look, and voice 
accompanying some passing remark. But these words, 
dropped by the way, were to those who knew him 
weighty. 

" His friends were numerous ; I can mention, however, 
but a few names. We were members of different Colleges, 
and our companions, in many instances, were not the 
same. Among those with whom he was most intimate 
were — -Preston of Trinity ; Pollexfen of Queen's ; Hutch- 
inson of Corpus ; Kagland of Corpus ; Garrett of Trinity ; 
Fenn of Trinity ; also Stewart and Sands of Trinity, who 
were both from the Edinburgh Academy. I believe all 
who knew him, valued and respected, if they did not love 
him : for there was such consistency in all he said and did, 
that those who could not fully sympathize with his deep 
spirituality of mind, at least honoured and spoke well of 
him. I have said his life in Cambridge was in all points 
the student's life, yet he found time to work for Christ. 
There is a Sunday-school taught and managed entirely by 
the young men of the University, and in this he was a 
constant and most efficient teacher. The children came 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



67 



chiefly from one of the most depraved parishes in Eng- 
land ; and it was no small break into the Sabbath's rest 
to take a class in that school. But the love of Jesus was 
strong in him, and he persevered, delighting in his work, 
and not unfrequently visiting some of the children and 
their parents during the week. There is also at Cam- 
bridge a tract-distributing society for the villages around, 
conducted by the students. Maddingley, about three 
miles froin the town, was taken by John Mackintosh. 
He went there with tracts, either every week or every 
fortnight, I forget which. I never accompanied him on 
any of these expeditions : Garrett, I believe, was his 
helper in this work. But I feel sure he did not confine 
himself to simply changing the tracts. There would be 
some kind encouragement, or weighty advice for many. 

" To the Saturday evenings I look back with great plea- 
sure : an hour or two was always then spent in his rooms 
with Preston and himself. We met to read and talk over 
the Bible. "We began with prayer, then read a few verses 
round, made any remark which struck us. dwelling on 
each verse, and turning up references to illustrate the 
meaning ; and having passed a happy hour or more in 
this employment, we concluded as we began, with prayer. 
We then separated : he generally returning to his studies. 
I do not remember much of the conversation which we 
had on these occasions : but I never can forget his 
prayers. They made an impression which will nut easily 
be effaced. So simple, yet so solemn : so familiar, yet 
so reverential. He combined, what so few can combine, 
intimacy of communion with a Father, with the humility 
of a sinner before God. 

" In prayer, he was indeed in fellowship with the Lord. 
We were one day speaking of the manner appropriate to 



68 



MEMORIALS OF 



private devotion, whether it should be audible, or in a 
whisper, or simply mental. He evidently was not aware 
how it frequently was with himself. He was so absorbed 
in communion, his spirit was so engrossed, he took no 
notice of the manner. that we had many such men of 
prayer ! During our joint residence at Cambridge, the 
Eon -intrusion controversy raged in Scotland. We were 
both pretty diligent readers of the Witness newspaper ; 
and often did we converse upon the subject. I mention 
this only because I was particularly struck with the sober 
and careful way in which he formed his judgment. His 
feelings all went with the Non-Intrusionists, but he 
calmly and dispassionately weighed their arguments. In 
the summer of 1842, I met him in London, and we went 
together in the steamboat to Edinburgh. We had a 
rough passage, and were considerably delayed. It was 
Saturday morning, about two or three, before we arrived 
at Granton Pier. It was too early to drive into Edin- 
burgh to our friends' houses ; but after waiting some 
time in the vessel, we walked, just at daybreak, to the 
bottom of Pitt Street. It was a most lovely summer's 
morning, and our dear friend was in an ecstasy. The 
scene was so familiar — it was his own loved Scotland — 
and his arrival was looked for by many with delight. 
Those who have seen him gaze on the beauties of nature, 
and speak of those he loved, will be able to realize his 
look and words that morning. 

" I must just notice his visit to me at Eeading. It 
was in 1848. I had settled as Curate of one of the parish 
churches, and was married. We had not met since we 
parted in Cambridge in 1843. He arrived on a Satur- 
day, October 7 ; spent Sunday with me, and left for 
London on the Monday morning. It was impossible 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



69 



not to notice how he had grown in grace. His con- 
versation was so sweet and spiritual. With perfect ease 
he introduced and dwelt upon the most solemn sub- 
jects. Every word he said came manifestly from the 
heart. He spoke so impressively of dependence on the 
aid and guidance of the Spirit, one felt his daily steps 
were ordered by the Lord. On Sunday morning he 
greatly enjoyed the service and sermon at the Eev. C. J. 
Goodhart's chapel — his mind was full of them. The 
English Liturgy he had not heard for some time ; it was 
devotionally read, and he joined in it with delight. Mr. 
Gooclhart's text was Psalm xxxix. 6 : 1 Surely every man 
w r alketh in a vain show/ We parted on Monday morn- 
ing, and never met again. In one of his letters he writes 
to me : 1 The memory of my visit to Eeading is still 
fragrant ; ' it is so still with us. He was no common 
friend. His place cannot soon be filled/' 

" Rugby, April 10, 1854. 

" My dear Norman, — It is long since you asked me 
to write down my remembrances of John Mackintosh. I 
have long delayed, but shall do so no longer. Many of 
the times and scenes through which we passed together, 
the things we did, long talks we had, have already 
passed from my memory, but they have left behind a 
total impression which will not pass. 

" It was about the beginning of November 1837, I 
think, on his first coming to Glasgow College, that we 
met and became acquainted. Years before, we had been 
at the Edinburgh Academy together, but as we were in 
different classes, we had not known each other to speak 
to. I knew him, however, by name and appearance ; 
and seem now to see, as it had been but yesterday, the 



70 



MEMORIALS OF 



two brothers uniformly dressed in a suit of sky-blue from 
head to foot, sitting always together at the head of their 
class— the younger and smaller first, the elder next to 
him. Though it is full twenty years since, his appear- 
ance is clearly before me, and the reputation that went 
with him not only for ability, but for character beyond his 
years. There was about him even then a calm collected 
air, as of one who had a purpose before him, and went 
straight to it, undisturbed by other aims. It may be that I 
look back on that early time through the light of what 
I afterwards knew ; but however this may be, such it 
now appears in retrospect. 

" The time when he entered Glasgow College was, as 
you will remember, a stirring one in that University. 
Peel had been elected Lord Rector the year before. The 
Peel Club had been established to support his principles : 
political feeling, which was then high among the students, 
added interest to life, and quickened the stir of thought. 
But it is not as a young politician that we think of him, 
as he then was, but rather as a chief favourite in that 
small circle of friends, of which your father's hearth was 
at that time the centre. There were in all about ten or 
twelve of us, between the ages of sixteen and eighteen. 
Many of these had come from the Edinburgh Academy ; 
most were preparing for Oxford or Cambridge. We were 
then at that delightful time of life when the fresh heart 
of boyhood, first freed from restraint, leaps forward eagerly 
to the opening interests of manhood. Seldom do a band 
of friends live together on terms so happy, so intimate, 
so endearing, as those on which evening after evening 
we used to meet in that room in your father's house 
(known amongst us as the coffee-room), or in the lodgings 
of some one of our number. Many interests there met 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



71 



and harmonized: poetry, philosophy, politics, or field-sports, 
and other amusements. In these things, though John 
took some part, he was not ardent or conspicuous. Two 
things specially marked him. One was his scrupulous 
regularity in all things, and his conscientiousness in pre- 
paring each evening the College work of next day. In 
this he was a pattern to all of us, to which all did honour, 
whether they followed him or not. The other was the 
singleness of aim and resolute purpose with which he set 
his face toward divine truth, and to live an earnest religious 
life. This last I have heard of, but never saw equalled 
in a boy of his age. He used at that time to attend the 
meetings of the College Missionary Society, and other 
things of this kind — a practice in which, as far as I knew, 
he was alone among the younger students. But he was not 
remarkable for any precocious activity, but rather for strict 
self- discipline and thoroughness of purpose, which made 
him, while earnestly seeking the highest things, never 
neglect the lowest duties. Mr. William Burns, who was 
then his private tutor, greatly encouraged him in his re- 
ligious endeavours; and he used to know and often to attend 
the church of Dr. Duncan. I ought perhaps to add, that 
these high moral and religious qualities were at that time 
not unaccompanied by a certain shade of that austereness 
which some think characteristic of religious people in 
Scotland. But however this may be, all his companions 
felt the force of his goodness. Their great love for him 
as a friend was mingled with deep respect, I might 
almost say reverence, for his whole character. Two 
sessions, two most delightful winters, we were together in 
Glasgow, and then came the first of May 1839. On that 
day our band of friends shook hands, and bade farewell to 
each other. They went each on his separate way, and 



72 



MEMORIALS OF 



never all met again, nor can meet now any more in this 
world. It was indeed a golden fellowship, much to he 
rememhered hy all who shared it ; and none did more to 
sanctify and endear it than he who was among the earliest 
taken. 

" After this, I have no distinct remembrance of our 
meeting till the midsummer of 1843. Then, after he had 
taken final leave of Cambridge, before returning to Scot- 
land, he came to visit Oxford and some of his old Glasgow 
friends, who were undergraduates at Balliol College. It 
was then I heard from himself, and for the first time, 
that, after long deliberation, he had made up his mind to 
join the Free Kirk. Much had passed over both of us 
since we parted at Glasgow ; and you can imagine how 
delightful it was, after so long an interval, to renew our 
old companionship. For several days we wandered to- 
gether among the Colleges and old gardens, and by the 
banks of the river ; and the antique air of the place 
seemed greatly to impress him. He noticed, I remember, 
some difference between undergraduate life as he had 
known at it Cambridge, and what he saw of it at Oxford ; 
and seemed to think that we were more intimate with the 
rest of our College than he had been with the men of his. 
This may have been owing to the difference between a 
small College like Balliol, and one so large as Trinity. 
At the same time, my impression is, that while there he 
had lived a secluded life, chiefly with a few like-minded 
friends, and never entering into the main current of College 
society. He seemed to think that it would have been 
otherwise with him, if he had been at Balliol. It might 
have been so, but of this I cannot judge. 4 The Oxford 
movement 1 was then at its height ; and he took much 
interest in all he saw and heard regarding it. I can 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



73 



remember standing with him in the great sqnare of 
Christ Church, to watch Pusey's spare, bowed down, sur- 
pliced form, as he returned from prayer in the Cathedral. 
He was present also in St. Mary's on one of the last 
Sunday afternoons that Newman's voice was heard there 
or elsewhere as a minister of the English Church. After 
a few bright days we parted, and were never again so 
long of meeting till he last went abroad. One change, 
and only one, seemed to have passed over him during 
our long separation. The tinge of severity which I was 
aware of formerly, had wholly disappeared. Without 
losing his singleness or strength of purpose, he had 
grown, I thought, more gentle, more serene, more deeply 
loving towards all men. Every time we met, up to the 
last, this impression was confirmed. 

" From this time onward, I had the great happiness of 
seeing a good deal of him, generally twice every year, at 
Christmas and at midsummer. He used sometimes to 
visit me at my home ; but oftener I visited him in Edin- 
burgh, or met him in your manse. During this time he was 
attending Dr. Chalmers's Divinity Lectures, visiting the 
poor in an old town district, teaching their children, and 
sometimes he attended some other of the Professors. He 
was much taken up with Dr. Chalmers, and used to tell 
me much about him. He loved to dwell too on his little 
peculiarities, some of which greatly amused and delighted 
him. Our conversations during these times often turned on 
the things in which he was then engaged, on the difference 
between English and Scottish Universities, English and 
Scottish Theology. About this time, he read a good 
many of Newman's parochial Sermons ; and was greatly 
struck by his wonderful power in laying bare men's 
hidden character, and putting his finger on the secret 



74 



MEMORIALS OF 



fault. Not that he ever inclined towards the peculiar 
doctrines of Newman — from these, you know, he was 
always far enough removed ; but this did not in the least 
hinder him from freely opening his heart to these wonder- 
ful writings, which for depth and inwardness are perhaps 
unequalled in this century. I did indeed admire his rare 
candour, which was with him fully as much moral as in- 
tellectual. However widely a man differed in opinion or 
sentiment from himself, it seemed he did not care to dwell 
on the differences, but rather to open his mind fairly to take 
in whatever of good or true he had to teach. This open- 
mindedness in one so earnest and fixed in his own mind, 
was very remarkable ; and the whole seemed so evenly 
balanced, that while he was not only fair, but sympathetic 
towards all men, there appeared no symptom of that 
weakness and uncertainty of thought often visible in those 
whose sympathies are stronger than their heads. Akin 
to this was his power of entering into works the ablest, 
and to many men the most perplexing, without harm. 
One summer, while he was in Edinburgh, I remember he 
went carefully through Kant's Religion within the Limits 
of Reason. Few books, I imagine, would be more un- 
settling to most young men ; but though he read it with 
much attention, and seemed thoroughly to perceive its 
bearings, it did not seem to cast even a momentary cloud 
over his clear spirit. This may have been, in part, no 
doubt, because the turn of his mind was not speculative ; 
but much more, I believe, because religious faith was in 
him no longer matter of mere opinion and discussion, but 
rooted there, where no reasonings of men could shake it. 

" In those years, when I used to meet him in Edinburgh 
or elsewhere, there are some days which stand out with 
peculiar vividness in my memory. One summer he re- 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



75 



tired to Queensferry for a time, to combine more undis- 
turbed study with pure air and a pleasant neighbourhood. 
His days there were divided between his books and 
solitary walks among the woods and grounds of Hopetoun 
and Dalmeny, enjoying the grand views they command 
up the Forth to the Perthshire Highlands, and downward 
to the German Ocean. Twice I rode over from Houston, 
and spent an afternoon with him. One of these times he 
the park of Dalmeny, to a shady terrace, which 
was a favourite haunt of his ; and there we walked up and 
down for long in earnest talk. He then accompanied me 
i.r some way on my road homeward. The thought of 
that evening brings strongly to mind the depth and ten- 
or ss of his sympathy for all his friends' anxieties, 
whether outward or inward. In freeness it was liker a 
woman's than a man's sympathy. And there was a 
the griefs of others in the pureness of the 
mind that opened to share them. Another time we met, 
and whiled away part of a summer afternoon on the high 
pastures of Midhope, looking over the Firth of Forth. 
Then we made the burn our guide, and let it lead us 
from the open grass fields, down through its deep woody 
glen, past the antique house of Midhope, till it reaches 
the salt sea-water. Tennyson was among our other 
thoughts that day, and we chanted to each other that 
beautiful melody of his — 

' Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea — 
Thy tribute wave deliver.' 

We knew not then how truly that burden applied : — 

'No more by thee our steps shall be, 
For ever and for ever.' 

But no shadow passed over that afternoon ; it was alto- 
gether a bright one. and is as bright in retrospect as it 



76 



MEMORIALS OF 



was when present. Afterward he wrote to me saying 
how much he had enjoyed it, and enclosing some feeling 
verses of his own. I would have sent them to you, but 
I cannot now recover them. 

" Those visits which I used to pay to you twice 
yearly at Dalkeith Manse, were generally in company 
with John Mackintosh. We went together and left to- 
gether ; and as we returned to Edinburgh, the feeling 
was shared and expressed by both, that there were few 
things so full of refreshing as these visits. One Sunday 
morning in winter, I specially remember we had set our 
tryst at a certain spot, a little way from Edinburgh, 
whence we walked leisurely through by-roads to Dalkeith. 
The morning was very calm, and his spirit was in keep- 
ing with the quiet of the time, and seemed to lead others 
insensibly to share his own serenity. 

" It must have been one of our last times of meeting, 
that I went on a summer day to find him in his lodgings, 
hoping to spend some hours with him. He told me that 
he was going that evening to the West Port, to hear Dr. 
Chalmers speak to the working people about the church 
which he was building for them in the heart of that un- 
sightly district. We went together through lanes and 
closes, foul with all uncleanness, till we found ourselves 
in the loft of a large tannery. That low-roofed noisome 
loft was crowded with the poorest inhabitants of that 
poor neighbourhood, who had come together from their 
work or their garret just as they were. At the head of 
the low-roofed dingy room stood the venerable man, his 
hair more white, and his body feebler than of old, but 
with energy unabated, speaking to these unlettered people 
not in his usual copious eloquence, but with a direct 
homeliness of speech, such as the poorest could under- 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



77 



stand. He told them how he had got that church built, 
that others had subscribed much, but that they must give 
some help themselves ; that others might well assist them, 
but that they should not suffer everything to be done for 
them ; that he would not, even if he could, get the church 
completed, till they had given him each what they could. 
From this he branched off to speak of self-help in general, 
of masters and employers, adding maxims of thrift and prac- 
tical political economy, moral advice, and religious exhor- 
tation, all naturally blended together, and all warmed by 
the most open brotherly heart for those he was addressing. 
It was the last time I remember to have seen Dr. Chal- 
mers, and one of the last surely that I was with John 
Mackintosh. After this I must have been with him at 
least once — the Christmas before he left Scotland. But 
I cannot recall anything special that then took place. 
Neither, strange to say, can I now remember the time of 
our last parting, so little thought had I it was to be our 
last. When I heard that he was going abroad, I wrote 
to ask him to visit me here on his way. But soon I 
learned that he had gone to London by sea, on that con- 
tinental tour from which he did not return." 



78 



MEMORIALS OF 



CHAPTEE IV. 

HOME AND HAPPINESS WINTER OF 1843 IN EDINBURGH — THE CON- 
TINENT HEIDELBERG LETTER FROM REV. MR. MACINTYRE. 

The summer and autumn (1843), from July to Novem- 
ber, were spent in his much -loved home, Geddes. He 
enjoyed much out-door exercise, "riding a great deal," 
and making many excursions to scenes of beauty in the 
society of cheerful friends. He records in his Diary, with 
great gratitude again and again, " what a happy time " 
he spent; " how serene and sunny!" In September he 
set off on foot, by himself, through the wilds of Koss-shire. 
Here is a leaf from this tour : — 

" Saturday, Oct 7. — Started at eight, and walked up 
banks of Loch Monar to the furthest extremity, about live 
miles, during half of which enjoyed a road, afterwards 
but a track. The day set in stormy ; and scene grand 
and imposing. Took Highland gamekeeper as guide, and 
sallied across hills for Grantown on Loch Carron. The 
streams were swollen into strong rivers, and we had to 
ford several not without danger. After taking me two- 
thirds of the way, the poor man left me, thinking I could 
easily follow the track ; but, ere ten minutes elapsed, I 
could not distinguish it from the thousand rills that fur- 
rowed the mountain side. On I sped, in what I thought 
the direction ; but there was no sun to mark the west, and 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



79 



after ascending and descending, crossing torrents and 
morasses, till my strength was spent, amid battering rain 
and wind, there appeared no alternative but to spend the 
night, which was fast drawing in, upon the dismal moun- 
tain. Strange to say. however, I continued to hope 
against hope : and just as I was sitting down, entirely 
done up, I descried a shepherd boy as if dropped from 
heaven. With much persuasion he approached me, and 
by signs — for he spoke only Gaelic — I explained my 
wishes, and he led me to a shepherd's hut, in a gorge, 
concealed from sight. I welcomed it as though it had 
been a palace ; and yet the hardships were considerable — 
a hut with two rooms — about a dozen inhabitants ; for 
there was a gathering of shepherds for sheep-smearing, 
and the English of the whole would scarcely make up 
one Sassenach. A dog to each shepherd, always in the 
most comfortable place, busy scratching : add to this, an 
atmosphere of reek that was almost palpable. All, how- 
ever, vied in supplying my wants — and what would such 
hospitality not cover? Some cakes, porridge and milk, 
with a little mountain-dew, formed my supper ; and I 
then retired to the sleeping-room, where a whole bed was 
assigned me. It was too bad, as it turned out, to deprive 
them of it, for I never closed an eye — heather and dried 
grass, under a blanket, composed the mattress, and my 
carcase was soon mapped out for the denizens of the 
heather, in a manner creditable to them, but excruciating 
to me. I sallied out at midnight, and drank the calm 
rapture of the quiet sky ; and the intense sleep that lay 
upon the lonely hills, while the hoarse raving of the 
stream below sung their lullaby, and only enhanced the 
universal repose." 

On his way home he visited Mr. Stewart of Cromarty, 



80 



MEMORIALS OF 



for whom, with all who knew him, he entertained the 
greatest admiration. " I sat up with him," he writes, 
44 till one a.m., and spent a delightful evening. We had 
a charming 4 crack ' next morning after breakfast." 

In November, John Mackintosh went to Edinburgh, and 
enrolled himself as a student of divinity in connexion with 
the Free Church; entering the classes of Hebrew (Dr. Dun- 
can), Church History (Dr. Welsh), and Theology (Dr. 
Chalmers). In addition to his labours in College, he under- 
took — as a member of an association, formed among his 
fellow- students, for home-mission work— to visit a district 
in the old town in connexion with Mr. Elder's congrega- 
tion. He became also a member of the 44 Speculative 
Society" — a literary reunion for debate and essay writ- 
ing, which during its existence for nearly a century, has 
had the most distinguished men enrolled among its mem- 
bers, while pursuing their studies in our Scottish metro- 
polis. 

44 Jan. 1, 1844. — Eose at four, and spent some time in 
devotion, seeking to dedicate myself and all I have anew 
to the service of Christ, and imploring His Spirit to 
direct me in everything. At eight walked out to visit 

at Dalkeith; magnificent, frosty morning, and enjoyed 

many pleasant thoughts. 

44 Jan. 9.— To-day I enter on my 23d year. The 
thought appals me ; so old, and hitherto so unprofitable. 
Many have entered into glory at this age, after much ser- 
vice in their Master's vineyard. I do not desire to hurry 
myself into the work, yet what ample field for serving 
God is and has been before me even in my preliminary 
course ! May the Lord give me strength to improve it 
better than I have done. I seek to be more habitually 
mindful of my high vocation." 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



81 



" Jan. 21. — At six to prayer-meeting at St. Leonards. 
May the Lord water our meeting, and make us a blessing 
to the district. Came home very despondent of my being 
able to address a meeting. The thought that I have 
made myself over to the Lord, and that therefore it is 
His concern, who can and will give me all necessary 
strength, comforted me entirely, and until I fell asleep 
my frame of self-renunciation continued. 

" Jan. 30. — Bead essay at Speculative, on 1 Life and 
Writings of Samuel Johnson.' Praised ; but I knew its 
merits better. I was much ashamed to read it before the 
Society. 

u March 17, Sunday. — To-day I have had a silent 
Sabbath. May my visitation be blessed to me, and lead 
me to hold nearer communion with God, and so cultivate 
close intercourse with Him, through the Spirit, however 
numerous my studies and engagements may be. In this 
I have come far short of my duty this winter. 

" Blessed be His name for all His mercies. I read of 
many cut off recently after short illness. May my life be 
spared for the advancement of His glory." 

About this time I received from him the following 
characteristic note : — 

" 9, Wemyss Place, Monday. 
" My dear Norman, — I yearn to see you. Shall you 
be at home on Thursday ? If so, expect me to breakfast. 
I should have been out long ago, but unfortunately 
arranged to go with Baldy ; * but, of course, when I could 
come, he couldn't, and vice versa, as always happens in 
such cases. I have in vain tried to see him to-day ; but 
if I can, shall bring him on Thursday. I think I shall 
one day die of suppression, if this kind of isolation goes 

* Mr. Archibald Boyle, 
F 



82 



MEMORIALS OF 



on, with no one i like-minded ' to whom I may confide 
joys, sorrows, and, in short, my whole soul. I sometimes 
think it unkind of you, that you never come near me, 
and take no more thought of me than if I were blotted, 
as I deserve to be, out of existence ; but I suppose I 
oughtn't, and you may be saying the same of me. Cer- 
tainly my tendrils, which were made to entwine, are be- 
ginning to coil into themselves, so that, perhaps, the 
discipline may be good in converting my ivy disposition 
into that of the oak. I don't know. 

" Well, I was at Glasgow last week, and have left my 
whole heart with the Eamsays and your mother, so that 
it must be bigger than I thought it was. I do envy 
them in Glasgow. Sony I missed you to-day, for, 
on being told you were to be in town, I poked into 
the coach-office, and Dalkeith coaches, in quest of 
you. 

" Don't scold me as querulous for the above ; but I 
have been hunting all day for some creature to lavish my 
affections on, and have been obliged to bring them home 
unsuccessful, and consume them myself. But I mean to 
heave anchor soon, and go home. — Your affectionate, 

John." 

After partaking of the communion in connexion with the 
congregation of his much-valued friend, the Rev. Charles 
Brown, he says, " may this season be a rallying-point. 
May the Lord give me grace to cultivate closer communion 
with Himself. My very studies suffer instead of gaining 
by time which should not be given to them ; and alas ! 
instead of leading others in the right way, my own con- 
versation takes the stamp of theirs. Evening, to the 
prayer-meeting — many there; and tried to speak on a 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



83 



passage from Scripture. I endeavoured to surrender my- 
self to God, and so my anxiety vanished." 

And thus the winter passed in works and labours of love, 
and in growth of grace ; but before it ended, he had a 
short and severe illness (alluded to in the above Diary), 
and resolved that, with spring, he should once more visit 
the Continent. 

Like an arrow springing from a bow bent to its utmost, 
he left Edinburgh early in April, with a light and merry 
heart, to cross the Channel. 

" April 17. — Sailed at three for London, neither elated 
nor depressed. I am becoming prematurely old, so that 
changes little affect me. The mercury too of my compo- 
sition is at present low. Agreeable companion on board, 
who lent me M^Cheyne's Memoirs — a feast which I 
devoured. for grace to follow him, as he followed 
Christ ! 

" April 19. — Arrived after beautiful passage at twelve. 
The repose of the Thames at the Mart of Nations, and 
laden with their crafts, was to me most romantic, and 

almost oppressive. Had to remain till 7 s carriage 

arrived. Sat on deck under a glorious sky, and read 
aloud Epistle of St. Peter, with meditation of Him who 
had brought us in safety ; and before entering London — 
the world epitomized. 

" April 23.— 

' Though I go to Ist&mboul, 
Scotland holds my heart and soul.' 

" The winter is past ; one of laborious and somewhat 
harassing occupation, and though jaded with illness 
and anxiety, with a light head, and for me a heavy 
purse, I wend my way for a summer in Germany. In 
this I believe that I am actuated by a desire to become 



84 



MEMORIALS OF 



familiar with other languages, with the customs and 
institutions of different nations, and especially their uni- 
versities, and to receive unbroken leisure for study and 
meditation. In all this God may, and by His grace will 
be glorified. I have taken with me Butler, Leland's 
Deistical Writers, and other text-books in theology, which, 
with Hebrew, shall form my principal study. I am pro- 
vided by Dr. Chalmers, Dr. Welsh, and Sir William 
Hamilton, with some introductions to German profes- 
sors, and literati, so that I shall not* be altogether friend- 
less, if 

' Sick for home, 

I stand in tears amid the alien corn.' " 

He remained abroad till the month of August, residing 
chiefly in Heidelberg, where he enrolled himself as a 
student with Lewald, Professor of Church History. 

" Ostend, April 24. — Embarked last night, as the vessel 

sailed at two this morning. Wrote letters to and 

and then retired to a broken slumber, in a choky 

cabin, quite full of roosters. To-day exquisite, the sea 
like a pond, and at four p.m. we arrived at Ostend — 

' Once more I tread the continental shores/ 

" I hoped for this against hope, yet had a presentiment, 
when I quitted them before, it should not be for ever. 
No man ever wrote one book, I argued with myself; and, 
analogously, no man ever tasted the sweets of foreign 
travel once, and once for all. My dream has been realized. 
My heart beats high with a thousand thoughts, associa- 
tions, memories of the actual and the spiritual world. The 
prevailing fragrance rises from the recollection of the 
honeymoon of my life, which I passed with Professor 
Forbes. Therefore, Ostend, plain as thou mayest be 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



85 



in the hand-book's eyes, — to my soul-book, thou art more 
beautiful than tongue can tell. . . . 

" I am alone. how I hope to revel in solitude ! My 
passion for the romantic maid was ever great, but never 
have I enjoyed such an opportunity of wooing her. The 
Recluse or Zimmermann's sweet book on Solitude (I never 
read it, but if it be not sweet on such a subject, the author 
should be chained to a tree or a wife all his days) shall 
be but tame to my spiritual feast. To mingle freely with 
the natives will not break my spell, but, for my own 
countrymen, my motto shall be, 4 Anglus sum, et omnem 
Anglum a me alienum puto.' With a low bow — a salam, 
and then a fond embrace to solitude, I conclude this 
Journal. 

" April 25. — Took early train, and passing through 
level but highly cultivated country, 4 with whose sweet 
orchard blooms the soft winds play' at this exulting 
season of the year, I arrived at Bruges, to breakfast. A 
few days ago the mercury of my composition stood very 
low, the blood refused to permeate my veins ; now all is 
4 life, and splendour, and joy. ; 4 The light has returned 
to my eyes, and they dance like boys in a festival.' This 
energy must not be wasted. Let me agonize at German 
and other studies in the serene evenings I enjoy after a 
laborious day of sight-seeing. In Bruges, I am a denizen 
of the Middle Ages — in short, a middle-aged gentleman, 
tenanting the corpus, we shall say, of some fat burgher 
with a pipe half a mile long, and a purse without any 
end. Of course I have no sympathy wdth the present 
Brugensians. They could have no part in these fine old 
Gothic structures; on the contrary, wherever they can, 
they show their degenerate taste for square unmeaning- 
looking houses like themselves. Middle-aged ladies to 



86 



MEMORIALS OF 



keep me company there are none, but plenty pretty girls 
with regular features and eyes of jet flashing from under 
their silken snoods. The priests were right in describing 
as famous, ' formosis Bruga puellis.' For description of 
the town, I need do no more than set my seal to Murray's 
account. I conclude with a free translation of Horace's 
line — 

' O matre pulchra, filia pulchrior.' 
' Bruges, thou art fair ; but fairer still thy face, daughter of Bruges.' 

" April 26.— 

' Hail, town of Ghent, time-honour'd Manchester ! 
Hail, town of Ghent, the Belgian Manchester !' 

For this foul bathos in comparing antique and romantic 
Ghent to a city of tallow-chandlers like Manchester, 
thank Murray, not me. Spent from 4 morn to dewy 
eve' enjoying a similar feast to that of yesterday. But 
who shall tell the ecstasies of that eve ! My hotel is in 
the Place d'Armes, and my windows open upon it. Long 
after the bright star of evening had taken his watch in 
the sky, I wandered like one entranced, 4 while every 
passing zephyr whispered joy ; ' and ever and anon the 
quaint old chimes of the cathedral, 1 most musical, most 
melancholy,' broke the silence, but only enhanced my 
waking dream. ' The measure of my soul was filled with 
bliss.' I seemed to dissolve into spirit, and to take my 
place as a steadfast portion of the influence which sur- 
rounded me. 

" Dr. Johnson's rule would probably apply here. When- 
ever you think you have written something unusually fine, 
draw your pen through it. All I mean to say is, that 
this evening, in the firm of Mackintosh, the material ap- 
peared to form a very junior member of the concern. This 
is it in right Manchester phrase. 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



87 



" Sunday, April 28. — (Aix-la-Chapelle.) — 

' How many thousands on this day are wending 
Through Scotland's glens and mountain-paths their way 
Toward spire and tower, 'mid shadowy elm ascending, 
Whence the sweet chimes proclaim the hallow'd day ! 
I may not tread with them those pathways.' 

" My first Sabbath abroad ! It is refreshing, amid the 
laxity of foreign observance, to turn the thoughts home- 
wards, where, with all our shortcomings, God has not 
yet given us over to a general and shameless breach 
of the fourth commandment. This feature abroad has 
shocked many, who yet knew little or nothing of the 
blessedness of a Christian Sabbath, when spiritually ob- 
served. Does my feeling proceed merely from habit or 
sentimentalism ? I think I have tasted somewhat of 
the promised reward annexed to this duty, and therefore 
grieve that this people should be so blind to their best 
interests ; but I am sadly deficient in jealousy for the 
Lord God of hosts, my Lord and Father, who has chal- 
lenged this day as His own. Do Thou give me more 
of the spirit of the Psalmist, that 1 rivers of waters may 
run down mine eyes, because they keep not Thy laws.' 

u The thought occurs to me sometimes— are we right 
in Scotland in desiring a strict observance of the Sab- 
bath, and, generally, in the shape which religion assumes 
with us, which even with some of the better Protestants 
abroad would be termed mysticism. I speak, of course, 
of spiritual religion at home. After bursting, as far as 
possible, the shackles of habit and prejudice, and viewing 
the matter in the light of Scripture example and precept, 
as well as in that of reason, I am abundantly satisfied 
that we are right, and that any attempt at a religion 
below this standard, be it recommended by bishop, states- 
man, or savant, must be vain and unsatisfactory. If 



88 



MEMORIALS OF 



religion, hearty love to God in Christ, with all those 
spiritual graces which it implies, be not wrought into 
the spirit of man by the Spirit of God, it is nothing at 
all ; and yet I suspect this would be called mysticism by 
many Protestant divines abroad, and by some at home, 
though not perhaps in so many words. I say 1 suspect/ 
because I wish it otherwise, and have had too slender 
opportunities of knowing it to be true. My clean re- 
tired room, in the quiet hotel court, with my Bible, Win- 
slow (a choice book), and Owen, was enough to make me 
forget the surrounding profanity, and to dwell in the 
secret place of the Most High, under the shadow of the 
Almighty. 

' Sweet is the breath of Sabbath eve, 
And soft the sunbeams lingering there ; 
These sacred hours this low earth leave, 
Wafted on wings of praise and prayer.' 

"Sunday, May 5. — (Mannheim.) Never shall I forget 
that evening, inJJie gardens by the river-side, long after 
the stars had come out in the silent sky, while the myriad- 
minded river itself bore burden to my thoughts, more 
myriad-minded still. What soul was mine ! Attuned it was 
in unison with the Sabbath eve, and while long it could find 
no utterance in words, it at length found vent in repeat- 
ing the Apostles' Creed, and this alone, every word of which 
seemed fraught with a new meaning, and. almost lay on 
my mind like a substance. 

" May 6.— (Heidelberg.) My windows command an 
enchanting prospect far down the course of the Neckar, 
and terminated in the distant west by the Vosges moun- 
tains of France, whose dreamy outline of blue transports 
my soul into another world. Beyond them, almost in a 
direct line westward, is Paris ; and were I disposed to be 
romantic, there might be something in the thought, and 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



89 



some appropriateness in the song, 1 0' a' the airts the wind 
can blaw ; 1 but it is not so. There is one snblimer con- 
sideration which overwhelms all others, and that is, that 
niy windows are looking towards Jerusalem, or Scotland, 
and every evening the glorious sun sets right in the direc- 
tion of the beloved hallowed land, surrounding it visibly 
with that halo with which to my mind it is invested, 
and bearing to it, at this solemn season of her Assembly, 
my fervent, spirit-drawn prayers. Never can I forget the 
sweet solitude of these rooms, and yet not so solitary as 
to be irksome, for I enjoy the novel and noiseless traffic 
of the river, and the busy thoroughfare of the Frankfort 
road on its further bank, visible, but inaudible from its 
distance. Never can I forget the sober and contempla- 
tive evenings, and yet not sober, for the joy of the climate 
and the scene amounted to an ecstasy. I shall here record 
an outline of my day's disposal ; and 1 ab uno disce 
omnes.' Eise sometimes at four ; but occasionally later. 
Bead and meditate on the Scriptures with prayer till six ; 
when breakfast a VAnglaise : study German and Hebrew ; 
read with master ; attend lectures in the University till 
twelve. Eead and meditate till dinner at one, in Museum 
with the students, after which read the newspapers, Ger- 
man, French, and English ( Times and Galignani) for a 
short time. I then re torn home and study history and 
theology (Thierry's Norman Conquest in French, and 
Butler), for two or three hours, till five ; after which I bid 
farewell to study for the day, and sally forth to enjoy the 
evening coolness, in walking among the beautiful environs 
of the place alone, or, more generally now, in company 
with some fellow- students and others whose society I much 
enjoy. My bow is then unstrung, and for the time being 
I adopt the sentiment of Wordsworth — 



90 



MEMORIALS OF 



' The impulse from a vernal wood 
May teach you more of man — • 
Of moral evil, and of good, 
Than all the sages can.' 

At all events it conduces very much to my improve- 
ment in German conversation ; at nine, when the shades 
of evening fall more heavily on the plain, I retire ; and 
after closing the day as I began it, in meditation on the 
Alpha and the Omega, I commend myself to His care 
who slumbereth not nor sleepeth, and fall asleep to the 
lullaby of whispering winds, and the river murmuring 
beneath my window. 

" Sometimes, for variety, when the weather is cool, I 
take my contemplative, i.e., my walk after dinner, and 
thus reserve my evening for study and meditation at the 
open casement of my room, when balmiest thoughts float 
or frolic in my mind, and the whole measure of my soul 
is filled with bliss. The following lines are a faint echo 
of those thoughts, fragrant of myrrh and aloes and cassia, 
but incommunicable, which I penned under the influence 
of the scene — 

f Place me in some westering tower, 
Where, at the thoughtful twilight hour, 
I may see the car of day 
Majestically roll away. 
While on his footsteps star-hedight, 
Slowly ascends gray hooded night ; 
And bright Hesperus on high 
Glimmers clear and silently ! 
Alone of all the starry train 
In the unfathomable plain ; 
While the river, broad and deep, 
E'en in its motion seems to sleep, 
Well pleased upon its breast, I ween, 
To bear that star of wondrous sheen ; 
While the hills increasing seem, 
Like phantoms in a waking dream.' " 

In the same buoyant and joyous strain is every Diary at 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



91 



this time on the Continent. The healthy body now 
seconded the healthy soul, and both rejoiced ! 

Partly from curiosity, and anxious to drink a little of 
the spirit of the Burschen life, he attended one of those 
burlesque scenes — a duel with swords, several of which 
were fought every week by the students ; but are by no 
means so very deadly as those encounters which, under 
the same name, were once so common in our own land. 
"Picture to yourself," he writes, " two ugly rascals con- 
fronting each other, with long padded trousers reach- 
ing up to their middle, their right arm bound with 
padded bandages to such an extent, that during the in- 
tervals of fighting they must be supported by a friend ; 
their neck protected by a cravat (not hempen) similarly 
padded, and a long snouted cap drawn over their head 
and concealing the upper part of the face : such, and 
so bedight, were the heroes on whom all eyes were 
concentrated. So much for defensive armour. The 
weapons of offence were long, narrow, sharp rapiers, sharp 
enough to cut, and blunt enough to make a very awk- 
ward wound. Behind each combatant stood his second, 
in many respects similarly equipped. The second is 
always one of the leading men of the respective corps, 
and a good swordsman. Around stand the spectators, of 
course all students or privileged persons like myself. At 
the word of command, the German of which I forget, but, 
Ite capellce — 'Go it, ye cripples ! 7 — will serve the purpose ; 
a noisy scuffle ensues for about two seconds, when the 
supporters interfere with the word 'Halt!' and the prin- 
cipals drop their swords ; this is repeated for twenty-four 
rounds, as the case may be, of which note is kept by the 
umpire. How any damage is done in this mimic warfare, 
illustrating the proverb of 1 Much cry and little wool. 7 or 



92 



MEMORIALS OF 



' Much ado about nothing/ might well afford matter of 
much astonishment ; but yet two students out of three 
have traces of wounds in all parts of their face — a badge 
of distinction, it seems, in many cases retained through 
life. Ckacun a son gout. 11 

Soon after, he enjoyed a meeting of a very different 
description, and one more congenial to his tastes. 

" June 10. — On Sunday I went, as usual, to the 
English service, at eleven, in the Museum. I was seated 
near the door, and had not been engaged long before a 
family entered, the sight of whom was so unexpected that 
at first I could scarcely believe my eyes. It was none 
other than Dr. and Mrs. Duncan, from whom I had long 
expected to hear ; but failing to do so, I had at length 
given up all hopes of seeing them, in what, as regards 
congenial spirits, may be called £ the house of my pilgri- 
mage. 7 What joy was mine once more to worship with 
him ! The place became to me the gate of heaven, and 
my recollections of it are hallowed ever since. My heart 
overflowed with gratitude to God, the Giver of every 
mercy. The preacher had occasion, in his sermon, to de- 
fine the object and end of baptism. The Doctor's head 
bowed involuntarily at the end of each proposition ; and 
when the whole was concluded, without any reference to 
baptismal regeneration or the like, except in way of con- 
demnation, an Amen of approbation and satisfaction pro- 
ceeded audibly from his lips. It was very characteristic 
of the embodied 1 Confession of Faith.' 

u The remainder of the afternoon I spent in their com- 
pany, listening with astonishment and gratitude to an 
account of the wonderful things God is doing for the 
beloved Church of our fathers, which, in the midst of 
much tribulation, He is yet visiting with such peculiar 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



93 



favour. The spirit of humiliation and self-abasement, 
which I understand to be more abundantly felt through- 
out its borders, is the most eminent token of good we 
could have, both for the stability and wellbeing of the 
Church of Scotland itself — for our living in charity and 
brotherly love with those who differ from us — for healing 
the divisions of our beloved native land. may the 
Lord bless the whole Church, and especially His own 
office-bearers, that they may be faithful watchmen on the 
walls of Zion, living in His presence, and drawing from 
the fountain of life, rivers of grace to be imparted to all 
the people ! may He bless and multiply all who love 
the Lord Jesus, and hasten the coming of His glorious 
kingdom. Amen. 

" After worship in the Hotel, I left them and repaired 
to Professor Tiedemann's, Vine Hill, where I was intro- 
duced to Professors Ullmann, Umbreit, and Eothe. There 
were others there, but I confined my attention principally 
to them, and enjoyed some very pleasant conversation, 
conducted, of course, in German. Their kindness to me 
was very great. I obtained Professor Umbreit' s leave to 
introduce Dr. Duncan to him next morning, and was 
invited by the others to visit them, which I was anxious 
to do, and accomplished soon afterwards. Next morn- 
ing I accompanied Dr. D. at seven o'clock, to hear 
Director Kothe lecture ; and at nine, to visit Umbreit. 
The reception was most cordial. The conversation turned 
chiefly on the Oriental Languages — Professor Umbreit 
speaking German, and Dr. D. Latin, which he does 
with great beauty and accuracy. They appeared to har- 
monize very much in their views of the subjects discussed, 
and after an hour's interview we departed ; Umbreit 
having presented Dr. D. with one of his works recently 



94 



MEMORIALS OF 



published ; and the Doctor having obtained permission to 
correspond with him on the common subject of their pro- 
fessorship. ... v 

" Dr. Ullmann's opinion (of the Free Church), in com- 
mon with that of most others of the German divines, is in 
admiration of the men, but in disapprobation of their pro- 
ceedings. Were it otherwise, I should be much astonished; 
their own ecclesiastical position being still more Erastian 
than that of the Church of England ; and the principle on 
which the Establishment was rejected, appearing very 
naturally of minor importance, when compared with their 
own matters of controversy, which are the very elements of 
Christianity. But in how far their own fearful hetero- 
doxies and doctrinal anarchy is to be attributed to this 
very cause — the want of ecclesiastical discipline and free- 
dom—is a question pregnant with significance and mo- 
ment. 

" Week the 7 th. — On Monday visited Professor Rothe, 
and had an interesting conversation with him. I read to 
him Dr. Chalmers's letter to me, in which, among other 
things, he asks me to ascertain in what esteem Stapferus, 
Maestricht, Pictetus, and the elder Turretine, are held by 
the divines in Heidelberg ; and also the names of such Ger- 
man authors as are in greatest request among them. To 
the former question I understood him to reply, with some 
naivete, that the above-mentioned books were out of date 
and almost unknown among them. To the second query 
he kindly furnished me with the following names : — 
4 Storr, Schleiermacher, Twesten, Nitzsch, Hahn, &c. ; 
Rationalist — Wegscheider, Bretschneider, Hase; Specula- 
tive — Marheinecke, Strauss.' " 

After making pleasant excursions to such places as 
Hielbron, Baden Baden, and Carlsruhe, John Mackintosh 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



95 



finally left Heidelberg at the end of June ; and after part- 
ing with the Eeitz family, and many friends, he writes : 
— " I then crossed the bridge, took a last view of my 
windows, as I drove along the road I had so often 
witnessed from them ; and finally, bade a long and sor- 
rowful adieu to Heidelberg, as the turn of the road at 
Neuenheim concealed it from my sight. It has been 
the witness these two months of many hopes and fears, 
joys and sorrows ; a little sadness no doubt at first, from 
being among a strange people, and unable to communi- 
cate with them easily ; yet, on the whole, what goodness 
and mercy and enjoyment, temporal and spiritual, have I 
to record ! Lord, fill my heart with gratitude, and what- 
ever I have learned that may tend to Thy glory, enable 
me to retain and improve/ ' 

He spent his autumn at home in health and joy. 

The following letter was written at this time to his 
aunt, Miss Jollie : — 

" Geddes, Sept 27, 1844. 
" My dearest Aunt, — I received your delightful letter 
with great pleasure, and, I trust, profit. It is stimulating, 
in the midst of our own lethargy in Christ's service, to 
hear of one so greatly made over to Him as you describe 
my dear pastor to be. After all, I am convinced that 
half measures in religion are most unsatisfactory, that 
there are also more of those half measures in our dedica- 
tion of heart and life to Christ than we are ourselves 
aware of; and that the full flood of Christian joy and 
consolation can never be reached by us, until we become 
as it were dead to ourselves, and Christ alone lives in us. 
For this blessed state I long and pray, knowing its sweet- 
ness from the experience of others, and some slight but 
precious glimpses I may have had of it myself. I cannot 



96 



MEMORIALS OF 



but think that the atmosphere I am now in is not the most 
favourable for making such attainments ; and yet I blame 
no one but myself, for I have multitudes of privileges. 
I have such redundant spirits when surrounded, after a 
long and far absence, by my dear family, that I shall 
sympathize more for the future with those whose natural 
spirits are always such ; and who, from this cause, cannot 
know so much of the broken and contrite heart as those 
whom the Lord is pleased to chasten more. I once 
thought them enviable, but I do not any more. You 
have now, perhaps, little acquaintance with the state of 
which I speak ; and that it is otherwise should form, be- 
lieve me, no small portion of your song of praise. At 
the same time, there is a spiritual buoyancy, such as 
bright and holy Joseph Alleine felt, which is the best 
state of all, and the Christian's portion." 

The Eev. Mr. Macintyre, now minister of the Free 
Church, Monikie, has kindly furnished me with the fol- 
lowing reminiscences of John during the period in which 
he studied in the New College, Edinburgh : — 

" It was during the four years he spent at the New Col- 
lege that I became acquainted with him, and had oppor- 
tunities of intercourse with him. It has often been matter 
of grateful recollection that these opportunities were fre- 
quent, and such as in time to beget friendship. What 
afforded them was not merely our being members of the 
same classes, but also of the same societies, literary and 
sacred, of which the members of necessity come into close 
contact. Mr. M. belonged to several of these, and took a 
great interest in them, especially those whose object was 
the mutual religious improvement of the students. He 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



97 



was a deeply interested and active member of the Students' 
Missionary Association, of which he was eventually made 
President ; and when he had associated with him in the 
direction several of his intimate friends. If I remember 
rightly, Mr. Kainy of Huntly, Mr. Carlile of Brechin, Mr. 
Ker of Deskford, Mr. Lundie of Birkenhead, Mr. San de- 
man, and others of his friends, were then on its com- 
mittee ; and as its business brought them frequently 
together, so their meeting seemed to cement their friend- 
ship. For, indeed, it was the noble and rare quality of 
Mr. M., that the more he was known the more he was 
esteemed and loved. The most frequent and familiar 
intercourse never seemed to disclose anything that tended 
to diminish either the admiration or affection with which 
his friends regarded him. At all times he was found to 
be the devout Christian, the warm friend, and the superior 
man. 

" I suppose his friends will all agree in this, that of all 
the students of his time there was probably not one that 
combined the two characters of the humble and devoted 
Christian, and the ardent scholar so completely. It was 
manifest that he prosecuted his studies with great zeal and 
success, by the earnest attention be always gave to the 
lectures and exercises of the class ; by the care with which 
be husbanded the time ; by his anxiety to improve con- 
versation to useful purposes ; and by the ripe knowledge 
he showed of many of the subjects of study. But this 
ardent success never seemed to chill the fervour of his 
spiritual affections, or lower the tone of his piety. He 
seemed to make it his business to give heed to our Lord's 
injunction, to seek first the kingdom of God and His 
righteousness, and not to allow anything to interfere with 
the interests and duties of spiritual religion. He once 

G 



98 



MEMORIALS OF 



told me of a practice he frequently adopted, when he felt 
the desk becoming too engrossing, or when he felt the 
dust and drought of any occupation not strictly religious 
gathering upon his spirit, which was, to shut his books, 
and take a long walk into the country alone ; and en- 
deavour by meditation and ejaculatory prayer to bring 
his soul into a healthy state, and that it very often proved 
successful. There were two other methods, besides the 
ordinary and necessary one of conscientious private exer- 
cises to keep his lamp trimmed and burning, which he 
also practised. The one was meeting regularly with a 
few friends for the study of the Scriptures and prayer ; 
and the other, visitation of a district of poor, ignorant, 
and, in general, wicked people, in whose religious welfare 
he took a very sincere and warm interest. By such means, 
and by the rich blessing of God, his soul was kept as a 
well-watered garden, fresh and fruitful ; and he was en- 
abled to exhibit spiritual religion in as amiable and at- 
tractive and withal healthful light, as I ever witnessed. 

u There were two things about him that struck me much 
— struck me because they are not commonly found. The 
one was his breadth of interest ; and the other, his seem- 
ing continually to feel that his mind with all its faculties 
and powers was immortal, and given him by God to be 
trained and cultivated for immortality. There were few 
things beyond his interest. His sympathies and likings 
did not move in a confined and narrow channel. His 
knowledge was not limited to a few departments. He 
loved to let his mind expatiate freely over man and nature, 
and seemed to take an interest in whatever was worthy 
of it on broad and general grounds. In this way his mind 
was kept from getting into ruts, and moving only in the 
tracks that habit and association have formed. But w T hile 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



there was this freedom and generality of interest, there 
was no risk of its running to waste, for he had both a 
sound judgment and a strong will to regulate it ; and so 
far as he was able, he would not allow it to influence 
unduly his opinions and his conduct, but kept himself 
strictly within what he believed to be the requirements 
of truth and duty. 

" The other thing I mentioned was very noticeable in 
him. He seemed to feel that God had given him not his 
heart only to prepare for immortality, but his mind also, 
— his intelligence and taste, as well as conscience and 
affections ; and he appeared assiduously and devoutly to 
cultivate them with that end in view. It seemed to be 
his aim to improve his powers to the utmost, not merely 
for service here, but as a spirit preparing for immor- 
tality. " 



100 



MEMORIALS OF 



CHAPTEE V. 

LAST YEARS IN EDINBURGH, 1845-47 FATHER' S ILLNESS — WEST PORT — 

WALES HOME — CHRISTIAN FRIENDS AMONG THE POOR— ^FATHER'S 

DEATH LASSWADE MR. TASKEr's ACCOUNT OP HIS WEST PORT 

LABOURS. 

John Mackintosh returned in December (1844) to 
Edinburgh, to resume bis studies in the Free Church 
College, and his labours as a district missionary. These 
labours were now connected with Dr. Chalmers's Terri- 
torial Church of the West Port, where 1 the old man 
eloquent,' with all the vigour of youth and all his early 
enthusiasm mellowed and chastened, but not lessened by 
advancing years, was applying to a wretched district in 
Edinburgh, those principles for Christianizing the masses, 
and reclaiming the outcast heathen of our cities, which 
he had attempted with such success nearly thirty years 
before in Glasgow. John also took as great an interest as 
before in the Speculative Society, and received much good 
from attending the ministry of Dr. Buchanan ; Mr. C. 
Brown having been laid aside for a time from bad health. 

"Jan. 1, 1845. — May this year, on which, through 
grace, I have been spared to enter, be an epoch in my 
preparation for the ministry 1" 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



101 



TO HIS MOTHER. 

" 9, Wemyss Place, Jan. 8, 1845. 
" Dearest Mother, — I have intended writing you ever 
since your birthday, which I did not forget, but alas for 
intentions ! However, I begin the year well, and need not 
mention to you how much it is in my heart at this epoch 
that you may be long spared on earth, and made from 
year to year, or rather from day to day, more ripe for 
glory by being more and more conformed to the image of 
Christ, our blessed Eedeemer ! I should not wonder if I 
had a letter from you to-morrow ; but if not, I do not de- 
serve it, being in your debt. I shall then attain the 
advanced age of twenty-three, and to my mind, one's own 
birthday is a more solemnizing season for reflection than 
that of the year. I have to look back on much short- 
coming and cause of penitence in my duties both to God 
and man, and many mercies and causes of thankfulness to 
the Giver of them all. Blessed be His name, I can look 
forward to acceptance and pardon in the name of Christ, 
whose blood cleanseth from all sin, and for the promised 
strength of His Spirit to perfect me more in time to come. 
Let this, dearest mother, be your prayer for me, as I know 
it is. Indeed, as I grow in years and reflection, I recog- 
nise more and more deeply the loving- kindness of God in 
having granted me such parents ; and not least her who, 
both by precept and example, trained up my youthful mind 
in the knowledge and love of Himself. I say not this to 
flatter, because I know that you acknowledge it to be of 
His mercy that you have been enabled to do so ; but to 
express the just debt of gratitude I owe you both, and 
the call I feel to show myself sensible of it, while life is 
granted me." 



102 



MEMORIALS OF 



" Jan. 12. — -Writing retrospectively, I have omitted 
to record that my birthday was on Thursday, January 9. 
I endeavoured to mark it, by prayer and fasting, as a 
day of solemn reflection ; considering and repenting of 
my past shortcomings, and resolving, by God's grace, to 
realize more in time to come, the precept, 4 Walk in the 
Spirit/" 

TO HIS YOUNGEST SISTER. 

" Edinburgh, January 1845. 

" I say, write me, will you ? To you, in that Ely si an 
den of yours, it ought to be like a glass of nectar to do so, 
as it would be to me; but I am so horribly busy, that 
I've scarcely time to blow my nose — d'ye hear? 

"And yet I have a sweet study to which I become 
daily, I should say nightly, more wedded, with my silent 
but pleasant midnight darlings, smiling around me ; and 
my thoughts generally engaged on the loftiest of all con- 
templations, whose base is indeed on earth, but their sum- 
mit higher than the heavens. Write me then, dear, 
often : for 

' Sweet is the postman's matin bell, 

Its chimes to me are dear : 
The letter come, oh ! who can tell 
My joy, my hope, my fear ! ' 

John the Khymer." 

" Feb. 2. — In this week, I desire to be more with God 
in meditation, reading, and prayer ; to realize more 
genuine humility and brokenness of heart — more de- 
pendence on God in all duties ; in short, more of the 
feeling, 4 Not I, but Christ liveth in me.'" 

At the end of February he was summoned home — "much 
overwhelmed in mind" — to attend, as he thought, his 
father's deathbed; but to the great surprise and joy of 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



103 



himself and the other members of his family, he was 
spared. He thus writes his mother after his return to 
Edinburgh : — 

"Edinburgh, March 17, 1845. 

" My dearest Mother, — I am indeed delighted by the 
cheering and satisfactory accounts of dear father which 
I haye received since my return. Agreeably to your 
request, I asked Drs. Muir and Buchanan to return thanks 

publicly to God ; and tells me nothing could have 

been more hearty and beautiful than the way in which 
Dr. M. complied yesterday. Had he been one of the 
family, it could not have been more appropriate. Dr. 
Buchanan has taken the most Christian and affectionate 
interest in us all. He had previously done what I wished, 
but repeated it yesterday. God grant our prayers may 
be still further answered, in the surrender of ourselves, 
one and all, to Christ, to be His followers in spirit and in 
truth, trusting in Him for our salvation, and seeking to 
love those things which He loves, and hate what He 
hates. Ah ! except the Spirit deepen and perpetuate the 
work, this warning, solemn as it has been, will soon be 
forgotten and ineffectual for good. Let us be instant in 
prayer, that so fearful a result may be averted, and the 
reverse accomplished. 

" You would be astonished and gratified to know of the 
interest our affliction has excited ; and the sympathy, 
prayerful sympathy, it has met. even clown to my poor 
paupers, old and young, of the West Port. 

" I have endeavoured, by calling and writing, to ex- 
press our gratitude to , and many others who have 

been unceasing in their inquiries. xsTone have been more 
kind than dear old Dr. Chalmers ; I never see him that 
he does not ask me my accounts. To-day was his birth- 



104 



MEMORIALS OF 



day, and his students had a breakfast in honour of it in 
Gibb's Hotel. 

" I am again in the full swing of study, much refreshed 
by my fortnight's interruption ; and my fellow- students, 
by their note-books, have quite made up any lectures I 
have lost. 

" Tenderest love to my father, and all. I trust, dearest, 
you are getting repose now, and recovering strength. A 
line at your leisure would be most welcome ; especially to 
say when you think my father could receive a letter from 
me. Ever your fondly attached son, — John Mackintosh." 

Next month, to his great delight, he received a note 
from his father, and replies : — 

" Edinburgh, April 5, 1845. 
" My dearest Father, — I cannot express my joy on 
seeing your writing once more ; and desire to feel very 
grateful to God for His goodness in restoring you so 
wonderfully. I pray that this great proof of His loving- 
kindness may lead us to repentance, and to devote our- 
selves more entirely to God in return for all His benefits, 
seeking in all things to please Him through Christ J esus, 
and to walk before Him in love. I have felt, especially 
of late, my dear father, the unspeakable necessity of 
having a personal interest in Christ, not merely nomi- 
nally, but in very truth — such an interest and union as 
makes us new creatures : for 1 if any man be in Christ, 
he is a new creature.' May you and I, through God's 
grace, possess such an interest !" 

Early in May he visited Glasgow, on his way to pay a 
visit to his friend Mr. James Brown at Fairlie. After 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



105 



passing through, the old courts of the College, he says : 
— " Old memories cluster thick around this hallowed 
College — nowhere more so. Its dim courts and gloomy 
arches are to my mind peopled with forms of the past, 
made up alike of the living and the dead. And hence 
my spirit is always solemn and my emotions very varied 
when I visit these walls. Here I truly entered upon life ; 
and so deep was the impress upon the page of time, at 
this period of my history, that I can as it were turn back 
to it upon the spot, and compare it with that which inter- 
venes." 

After returning to Edinburgh he attended the "de- 
liberations of the General Assembly of the Free Church 
for the first time, and was greatly gratified by the solem- 
nity, decorum, and spirit of sanctity which pervaded them." 

Immediately afterwards he was joined by his youngest 
sister, and both started for Wales, to pay a visit to their 
brother Alexander, with whom he spent a month of great 
enjoyment — touring it on foot through the lovely scenes 
of that beautiful land ; ascending Snowdon ; and, en pas- 
sant, being present at the great annual Conference of 
the Welsh Calvinistic Methodists. 

Diary. — " Bala, June 11. — At four in the morning the 
people began to pour in on foot, in cars, and on horseback, 
from a circumference, I am told, of forty miles. Booths and 
stalls were erected in the principal street for the sale of 
Bibles and religious literature, in Welsh ; as well as for 
other refreshments. At ten o'clock the multitude repaired 
to the common, where the preachers addressed them suc- 
cessively from a text ; the better sort being seated on vans 
and waggons round a circle, in the centre of which stood 
or sat the body of the people, numbering probably 10,000. 
The language and manner of the preachers reminded me 



106 



MEMOKIALS OF 



of our own Gaelic ministers. How far the good in such 
meetings preponderates over the bad, I am unable to 
determine. When God is active, Satan is generally 
active also. 

" June 13. — After breakfast walked down the truly 
lovely valley to Maen-Twrog, left knapsack there, and 
crossed the stream to the delightful terrace- walks and 
grounds of Mrs. Oakley. The views up the valley, the 
shade, the perfumed air, w T ere luxurious and perfect bliss. 
I had Wordsworth, and spent some hours here of highest 
enjoyment. 

" July 6. — Took communion in Gresford Church. 

" July 9. — Adieu to Gresford, with much regret, hav- 
ing enjoyed much happiness there/' 

In August he was present at the Assembly of the 
Free Church in Inverness, and records, with great thank- 
fulness, the good which he derived from the addresses 
and sermons to which he listened, and the persons 
whom he met on that occasion in the house of his friend 
Mr. Macintosh of Eaigmore, where he was a guest 
during the Assembly week, and his sojourn in which he 
" enjoyed exceedingly." 

" During rest of time at Geddes, secluded, in general, 
till two every day, and had thus some pleasant hours of 
labour. Good deal of satisfaction in my Sunday evening 
class ; founded library for their reading, with considerable 
success," 

He thus writes to his aunt, Miss Jollie : — 

" Geddes, August 14, 1845. 
" . . . I think I am learning two things at present ; 
that the situation we are in, if of God's appointment, is 
the most favourable for progress, and should be so im- 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



107 



proved without vainly sighing for a better and looking 
to the future ; and next, my utter inability to resist 
temptation of myself : I trust I may add, in some de- 
gree from experience, the possibility of doing all things 
through Christ's strength. Let me have your prayers, as 
you certainly have mine. I have frequently felt myself 
arrested, when contact with the world was paralysing my 
soul ; and to what is this to be attributed, but to the 
intercession of saints, and of the Great Intercessor ? " 

He once more began his winter labours in December. 
These were much the same as during the previous winter, 
without anything peculiarly marked in their character. 
The old routine of patient duty was repeated ; and then, 
hard study at home ; attending lectures in College ; fag- 
ging in the West Port ; enjoying the Speculative Society ; 
daily and loving intercourse with Christian friends and 
fellow- students ; and, upon the whole, sunshine, with 
some days of gloom and despondency in his spiritual life 
— such features as these made up his winter's history. 

Having heard of the illness of his friend, Mr. Alex- 
ander Burn Murdoch, he writes to him : — 

" January 1846. 

" I can understand that it must be difficult for you to 
bear the trial, and say, The will of God be done. Yet I 
am convinced that whom the Lord loves He chastens, 
and that this affliction must be sent you for His glory and 
your own good. How light would every trial be, were 
our will wholly swallowed up in God's, and were we so 
completely made over to Christ and His work, that we 
could say : I am Thine — do with me what seemeth to 
Thee good. By action or suffering, enable me to serve 



108 



MEMORIALS OP 



Thee the few years of my earthly pilgrimage, ere Thou 
takest me home to enjoy Thee for ever. Ah ! it is hard 
to say this, for our souls and affections cleave to earth ; 
but Christ's Spirit can put it in our hearts, though when 
we pray for the Spirit we may be in much darkness. 
May our heavenly Father sanctify this affliction to you, 
as I believe He will. You shall have my prayers for 
your speedy recovery, such as they are, as if it were for 
my own." 

" Jan. 16. — Had a long walk with — — . On some topics 
of religious thought, we coincide remarkably ; as, for in- 
stance, on the characteristics of Scottish and English piety, 
and the superiority of the former when genuine ; also on 
the independence of thought which should be fostered for 
candour in religious opinions, but which in Scotland and 
in our halls is too much repressed. Theologians rather 
made, than taught to make themselves. For the few who 
might fall off from the freedom of indulging inquiry, the 
rest would become more earnest and manly in their beliefs. 
The religion of Scotland too controversial in its character. 
The injury of the Reformation to the fine arts still too 
apparent, and this to the popular mind, especially when 
there is no religion to counteract the evil. 

u Jan. 31. — Worked hard all day, from eleven a.m. till 
twelve p.m., except a hasty meeting at eight in the West 
Port. 7 ' 

TO HIS YOUNGEST SISTER. 

" Edinburgh, Feb. 5, 1846. 
" I am in a kind of mad humour — hip, hip, hurrah, 
hip, hip, hurrah, hurrah, hurrah, hurrah ! My spirits are 
perhaps only the whirr of a bow long tightened closely, 
now relaxed — for I have been inconceivably busy, some- 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



109 



times desking it thirteen to fifteen hours per diem ; but 
say not this to our venerable mother, or I shall have a 
fresh influx of flannels, honey, and jams. ? Tis now over, 
and there's an end on't, and of my silence. 

" Meanwhile, a word of sobriety ere I close, as we often 
used to have ; although I know not how it may sound 
after so much jocularity. It is this, and I meant to have 
said it to you at the beginning of the year. With all 
your progress, are you making any, my dear love, in the 
ways of God, in the knowledge and love of Christ? I have 
sometimes feared not, and if you really ^ ish it, I know 
no more effectual way of getting out of apathy than 
by doing something for Christ. Concern yourself about 
others, teach the young, visit the fatherless and widows 
in their affliction, and keep yourself unspotted from the 
world ; and I am sure, using the closet means as well, 
you would soon begin to bud and blossom. Do lay this 
to heart, and believe me ever," &c. 

The following remarks upon an essay which he was 
writing, and which greatly absorbed his thoughts, show 
how watchful he was of himself, and how anxious, accord- 
ing to his frequent prayer, to have a single eye : — " I fear, 
indeed I am sure, that I am writing this essay more for my 
own glory than for God's. May He even yet turn my 
heart, and ere I lay clown convince me there is nothing- 
worth living for but Christ. And oh ! if this essay can 
really promote my usefulness, let not my unworthy mo- 
tives prevent it. God ! baptize me with the Holy 
Ghost, to be a vessel consecrated alone for the Master's 
use. I wish now to prosecute more searchingly this in- 
quiry : Am I really a child of God ? — and if so, Have I 
realty a Divine call to the ministry ? Lord, make me faith- 



110 



MEMORIALS OF 



ful in these inquiries, and enlighten me. If I have, or am 
to have, no call from Thee, turn me aside to another field 
of usefulness. If otherwise, fit me now manifestly, and 
in due time employ me. I think I am willing to place 
myself at Thy disposal, blessed Jesus." 

There is a tendency, however, more or less visible in 
his Diary, during the later months of this session, to in- 
dulge in a too minute and morbid analysis of his character 
and motives, when overwrought and fatigued in mind or 
body. Without the slightest evidence of his halting or of 
his being weary in well-doing, he sometimes palpably 
misjudges his religious state, and reproaches himself for 
everything but what he was justly blamable for — over- 
taxed energies. Alluding, for instance, to a visit which he 
had paid a friend whom he greatly loved, and who greatly 
loved him, he says [March 22) — " I do reverence his char- 
acter and love him, and feel grateful to him that I am not 
myself in speaking to him — that is, I seem more amiable, 
humble, meek, and the like, than belongs to my true 
character. This grieves me, because it is a kind of im- 
position, and yet it is involuntary. I cannot be other- 
wise with kirn." Again, in going one day to visit the 
West Port, he finds Mrs. H., an old randy woman, who, 
from whatever motives, had always appeared a better 
person than she really was ; but who, on this occasion, 
was discovered by him in a towering passion, excited by 
a neighbour, whom she had overheard traducing her 
character. Nothing could pacify Mrs. H. : her wrath 
was not a sudden ebullition of feeling, but a steady rage 
which continued for days together. Alas ! those who are 
long accustomed to deal with old reprobates, become too 
familiarized with the power exercised upon them by in- 
veterate habits of evil, to be surprised by such outbreaks, 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



Ill 



however much they may be regretted ; hut this having 
occurred to the young missionary when his body was 
wearied and his spirits low, he thus writes of it [April 2) : 
— " I was quite nonplussed. My conscience reproached me 
for going without due consideration and prayer for such 
a case, and sore perplexed. I felt heartless, and left her 
as I found her. Many thoughts have crossed my mind. 
. . . Do I yet know anything myself of Christ in deed and 
in truth ? I have shut up the avenues to the world, and 
spend my whole time professedly, and I believe desiringly. 
in the service of Christ ; but am I yet doing more than 
groping uncertainly in the dark ? Have I yet one spark 
of genuine love to Christ, or genuine love to souls ? In 
one word, is duty not my god — a more honourable one, 
no doubt, than the world or self, but still a lifeless god ? 
. . . All this perplexes me, and, coupled with low spirits 
from weariness and east winds, have brought on a habitual 
dejection. I cannot smile, I cannot love ; the Lord lead 
me into life and liberty. Have I any call or fitness for 
the Christian ministry? 1 ' 

It was surely high time for him to be off from the West 
Port and Mrs. EL, and seek repose and refreshment among 
the old hills and green fields ! And so, once again, with 
the same companion as formerly, he sought refuge with 
his brother at Gresford, and soon felt. the benefit of the 
change. 

" April 9. — Charming day! The voice of spring re- 
turned ! Eead and studied Faust, and Lamb's Life by 
Talfourd. 

u April 10. — Good Friday, which, being in England, I 
resolved to keep sacred. Sunny day ! 

" April 12. — Took sacrament with Aleck, in Gresford 
Church." 



112 



MEMORIALS OF 



On his way back to Edinburgh, at the end of April, 
he met his friend, James Brown of Fairlie, in Glas- 
gow, and says : — " He is reduced by illness ; my heart 
yearned over him. My ever dear friend — a relic of 
college days, when our acquaintance commenced in our 
being bench-fellows in logic, and soon ripened into inti- 
macy. I think I love him as myself. May the Lord 
tend him graciously in his illness, for better or for worse." 

He returns to his work in the West Port, and finds 
Mrs. H. much as he left her ; and is so impressed by all 
he sees in the district that "even her tornado broke the 
stillness of death. " The old dulness and sadness return. 
He says {May 7) — "My walks are dreary. My soul is 
dreary — have few near and endearing thoughts of Christ 
as at Gresford — I am, in short, dead. How strange 
this seems, when I thought my present mode of life would 
make my communion more in heaven than on earth. At 
two, dear Shairp called ; my heart leaped up ! And yet 
I feared my present ungenial spirit would show itself and 
disgust him." Every kind of work becomes oppressive 
to his spirit ; still he labours on until July, when, in order 
to find more quiet for study and rest for his mind, "in a 
paroxysm of despair," he set off for Queensferry, and hired 
lodgings, where he remained for a month. Eeviewing 
his summer's work, he says, " A more signal failure than 
it seems to have been for every purpose, is scarcely con- 
ceivable. Broken health, and consequently broken, nay 
jaundiced spirits, unceasing interruption, and consequently 
little progress in work. The town is not for me, and the 
less I have of it in future the better. At Queensferry, 
how very different ! I overtook a great deal of reading 
and thorough reading, with every day a charming walk, 
and pleasant friends to visit in the neighbourhood." And 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



113 



thus, with health, rest of body, quiet thoughts, undis- 
turbed devotions, and the sweet influences of God's 
beautiful world, came peace to his heart ; the rage of 
Mrs. H. vexed him no more. Heaven and earth were 
seen in their true light. The hills began to sing, and 
the trees to clap their hands ! 

In September, his grandfather Mr. Jollie died. He 
loved him much. In a letter to his aunt the previous 
year, he says : ki Eemember me to grandfather fondly. I 
often think still of my interesting interviews with him 
after breakfast, and how much, I believe, I learned from 
him.' 7 He writes of his death to Mr. Burn Murdoch : — 

' 1 September 7. 

M My grandfather died at a great age ; and, I trust and 
believe, was gathered as a ripe stock into the garner of the 
Lord. His death was truly a falling asleep in J esus, and 
for this we all return thanks to God amid our sorrow." 

His autumn month?, until October, were again spent 
at Geddes. By this time, his visits amoug the poorer 
families in his immediate neighbourhood, had made 
him acquainted with several persons with whom he was 
able to enjoy true Christian fellowship. These were 
indeed in very humble life, but yet among such poor as 
Christ blessed, and who are "chosen rich in faith, and are 
heirs of the kingdom that God has promised to those who 
love Hiin." His communion with such did not end when 
he left Geddes, for he never ceased to write to them from 
time to time. He thus speaks of one of them — 

u Sept. 28. — Eomantic walk and interview with oi l 
Saunders Eose on that marvellous moorland behind the 
hill ; then down upon the Black Mill, where I found them 



Ill 



MEMORIALS OF 



all at tea, in a clean clean room, and with a cheery wood 
fire. After tea, he insisted upon walking back with me, 
and escorted me accordingly through the black wood. His 
conversation was truly heavenly, and so full of primitive 
and patriarchal simplicity. In bidding me farewell, he 
said — L I am thinkin' this will be the last walk we'll ha'e, 
Maister John, and my heart's knit till ye ; the Lord be 
wi' ye, and mak' ye a blessinV My heart was like to 
burst, for, from his years and frailty, 'tis very likely to be 
his last summer. Besides, this walk and benediction has 
been an annual thing for many years back, and thus re- 
minds me of bygone days — of the flight of time — and 
of the uncertainty of the future. Such men are indeed 
the salt of the earth, and to me the noblest spectacle 
beneath the skies ; for what are they but kings on the 
eve of possessing their inheritance ? — to-day the denizens 
of a hut, ere long high in the ranks of heaven I" 

Another poor but much-valued friend of his was old 
Widow Mackenzie, who only a few months ago has gone 
to her rest. The following letter, though introduced here, 
was written to her at the beginning of the year : — 

" Dear Mrs. Mackenzie, — You see I have delayed to 
the last day you gave me, if I intended to gratify your 
request that I would write ; and yet, after all, I am going 
to send but a short letter. I shall begin by calling on 
you to join with me in praise to God, who has spared us 
to enter on another year, and given us so many mercies 
during the past on which to look back. May we not 
from this be confident that He is ready to be the same 
God to us in future, if we diligently seek Him and love 
His name ? What a solemn season this should be when 
we reflect on our ingratitude and provocations, on our 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



115 



shortcomings, on how little we have lived to God's glory, 
and at what a distance we have been content to dwell 
from Him ! Blessed be His name, although He might 
have shut us out for ever from His communion, wherein 
alone is life and peace, we may yet come to-day as if we 
had never come before, and lay all our sins on the head 
of the great victim, and so be received as justified and 
dear children. May the Lord fill our hearts with sincere 
repentance for the past, and enable us by His gracious 
Spirit to walk more closely with Himself in time to come. 
I hope you enjoy your usual health, and delight in read- 
ing, and that your deafness is no worse. May He who 
has brought you from your youth, be the strength and 
support of your old age, and finally bear you through the 
swellings of Jordan to His everlasting kingdom. Were 
I seated with you by your fireside, I should read you the 
7 1st Psalm, which you will perhaps do for yourself, think- 
ing of me. And now, my dear widow, in conclusion, let 
me seek an interest in your prayers, that He who alone 
can, may prepare me for His own service. Besides my 
studies, which are my chief duty at present, I have some 
practice in visiting and holding prayer-meetings in a. 
neglected and poor part of the town, which I find of 
great spiritual benefit to myself, and which serves to show 
me the great requirements, chiefly of the heart, which are 
necessary for a minister of Christ, and which can be had 
through prayer alone. I often think with pleasure of my 
summer class of young men, and am glad to hear that 
they still meet. I endeavour to be with them in spirit 
every Sunday evening, interceding with God on their 
behalf. Good bye, and trusting, if it be God's will, we 
may meet again in summer, — I remain, your sincere 
friend, John M a r vtvtosh.'' 



116 



MEMORIALS OF 



Before returning to Edinburgh for the winter, he took 
lodgings for a month at Corstorphine ; and early in No- 
vember, commenced his old work in the town. The 
day before he left the country, he thus writes: — "I 
desire anew to make myself over to Christ, body, soul, 
and spirit — first to be prepared for His work, and then, 
as now, to live entirely for Him. I desire self and all 
other idols to be utterly extinguished, that I may have 
one aim and one only interest — the advancement of 
Christ's cause in the world. Blessed Lord, do Thou 
accept me, a poor and vile worm, out of infinite mercy, 
and fit me to be an instrument in Thy hands. My heart 
is grateful to God for His mercies here. To-morrow I 
go into Edinburgh. May His presence go with me, that 
His work in my soul may be daily deepened instead of 
obliterated/' 

Though his bodily health and spirits suffer as usual 
front his life and labours in the city, he says — " I think 
I am content to walk in constitutional heaviness of soul, 
if God wills it, and look upon it as for good. I desire to 
seek not my own ease, but Christ's glory and service. 
My soul praises God for the many mercies with which 
I am still surrounded." He was, however, very thankful 
for any release, however short, from physical or mental 
troubles : " To-day the cloud of biliousness and dejection 
seems rising off my spirits, like a cloud from Helvellyn. 
I trust it is so, and will be permanent. How light I feel, 
how thankful and loving and ready for all work ! I trust 
my bearings are forward as yet, and not retrograde in the 
life of God." 

His West Port labours were continued in all their 
vigour. 

The year 1846 was closed by a visit to the north, to 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



117 



attend the marriage of his sister Jane, to Sir William 
Gordon Cumming. He was happy in being able at 
this time also to see much of his father, who was still 
in a very precarious state of health. "Each day," he 
writes, " I read, talked, and prayed with him in the 
forenoon. " 

The year 1847 began by his being summoned once 
more to the north, by the intelligence of his father's 
death. Upon the 25th January, he laid him in his grave,' 
in Geddes churchyard, and sorrowed much for one who 
was greatly loved. Geddes, the home of his youth, the 
ideal spot of his greatest earthly happiness, was to be his 
home no more. 

He returned to Edinburgh alone to prepare a residence 
for his mother and sister. — " May He who has done all 
for me hitherto/' he writes, " look in mercy on me now, 
strengthen my feeble will, and enable me to cast in my 
lot with Him entirely and unreservedly. May I have 
done with the world for ever, and may I acknow- 
ledge myself a stranger on the earth. The cares of a 
residence for my mother, &c, press upon me, but I de- 
sire to commit them to Him in perfect but humble 
faith." 

On March 17th, he presided at a large morning break- 
fast of upwards of a hundred students of the Free Church, 
to commemorate the birthday of Dr. Chalmers ; and at 
the request of his fellow-students, he prepared, and along 
with a deputation, presented an address to their vener- 
able teacher at Morningside. 

After paying a short visit to his brother-in-law and 
sister, Captain and Mrs. Smith, then living at Temple 
Sowerby, near Carlisle, and taking a short tour in West- 
moreland, he left Edinburgh, and, along with his mother 



118 



MEMORIALS OF 



and youngest sister, took up his residence at Laurel Bank, 
Lasswade. 

Almost the first tidings which greeted him on entering 
his new home, was the death of his beloved and venerated 
teacher, Dr. Chalmers. It was to him, as well as to 
many hearts, a deep personal affliction. He had known 
him as a friend, and had a great affection for all the mem- 
bers of his family. 

u May 30. — • News of Dr. Chalmers's death — much 
overcome, I feel as if I had lost a second father, and the 
world were now too dreary. Often am I tempted to dis- 
believe that that voice is now 4 gone silent/ and that 
mighty heart has ceased to beat. It seems like a transla- 
tion/ 7 

TO HIS AUNT, MISS JOLLIE. 

" Ah I what shall I say of Chalmers ? I dare not yet 
speak of him ; I have felt it almost more than my own 
father's death ; for words cannot tell the love I bore him, 
bordering on idolatry. I cannot conceive of a wiser, 
greater, or better man. Every part of his character was 
colossal ; he had the heart of twenty men ; the head of 
twenty ; the energy of a hundred ; and then to be cut off 
in the vigour of all !— I cannot but think, killed by this 
visit to London. He has not left his equal in the world. 
For the present I am stunned by it ; and yet we must not 
murmur or repine. How providential ! — he died at home, 
among his own people, and on such an anniversary, hav- 
ing just completed, too, the first curriculum in the Hall 
since the Church entered on her new condition. He has 
4 exchanged the bosom of his family for that of his God/ 
and is now enjoying those 4 felicities' he took such plea- 
sure in describing. The Church above is enriched ; nor 
will the Church below be left desolate" 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



119 



TO THE SAME. 

June. 

" A pensive walk to Morningside, and a return through, 
the Meadows to the High Street, that made my heart 
burst with old thoughts of the departed and the past. Our 
communion walks were not forgotten ; and thinking of 
Chalmers now in heaven, and the allusions I had heard in 
the forenoon to the united Church triumphant, I tried to re- 
alize this future, and to ask, Would I enjoy it ? Could I part 
with all that is earthly, and relish the spiritual, and God 
Himself, for their own sake ? I don't know; I fear not yet 11 

I cannot better close this period of his history, than 
by giving the testimony of Mr. Tasker, the indefatigable 
missionary in the West Port, as to the earnestness and 
success of John Mackintosh's labours in that district. In 
spite of his clays of despondency and sadness, it is cheering 
to know now that these labours were not, as he thought, 
all in vain ; but that he has left behind, on other hearts, 
sanctifying impressions of his character. 

u I had the privilege," Mr. Tasker writes to me, " with 
many others, to be his fellow-student under Dr. Chalmers, 
and very soon we all discerned his constitutional diffidence, 
elevated into Christian humility. As a matter of course 
he became a leader in all our literary societies as well as 
home missionary enterprises in this city, not certainly be- 
cause he stood forward ; but because, with common con- 
sent, we determined to make him our head. I dwell on 
this phase in his character, and its silent and instant 
effect on his fellows, because it brings out this testimony 
to what grace did in him, in the way of ever-burning 
zeal, conquering his native diffidence — even more than 
conquering ; for grace made that native diffidence a 



120 



MEMORIALS OF 



beauteous and an ample cloak of humility, in which he 
was ever invested and adorned. As might be expected, 
such a student became, from the first, a fellow-worker 
with Dr. Chalmers in the West Port. The mission had 
been six months in operation before I entered on its 
ecclesiastical superintendence. He was, therefore, my 
senior in the good work. I well remember with what 
zeal, tempered with his uniform, Christian, and gentle 
modesty, he urged me to accept the charge of what seemed 
then — of what seems still — a formidable undertaking; 
and, having entered on its duties, I can never forget the 
brotherly kindness which he displayed ; his prayerful and 
sympathizing efforts sustained and augmented, as long as 
he was at home, until failing health as well as a deepening 
sense — in which, however, he stood all alone — of the need 
of far higher literary attainments in divinity, induced 
him to visit our most illustrious continental Schools of 
Theology. 

"I need not here explain Dr. Chalmers's territorial 
mode of operation, as exemplified in the West Port. It is 
sufficient to say that Mr. Mackintosh was the gentleman 
visitor of one of our twenty districts. The lady who 
was appointed to co-operate with him among the same 
families still survives, and, by the grace of God, con- 
tinues with us to this day. I have conversed with her 
ere writing this letter, so that what follows may be held 
her testimony as much as mine. 

" In that district, inhabited chiefly by the most sunken 
of immigrating as well as migrating Eoman Catholic 
Irish people — the remainder being Scotch, yet more 
deeply sunken — there was, when they began, scarcely to 
be found one member of any Christian church. The con- 
sequent moral and social degradation may be more easily 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



121 



conceived than described. Besides visiting from house to 
house, Mr. M. opened and maintained a district prayer- 
meeting in one of the humble houses, and by dint of domi- 
ciliary visits of unwearied kindness on the part of the lady 
and himself, a goodly number was drawn out to attend 
an hour weekly to hear the Word of God at his mouth, 
and to listen to the prayers which the Holy Spirit helped 
him to present, in Jesus' name, on their behalf. 

" He conducted, besides, a Sabbath-evening class of 
young men — half a dozen or so of the lads in his district, 
whom he found in some instances strangers to the ordin- 
ary routine and proprieties of a daily school, they having 
never been within the walls of such a place. These he 
induced, by the humanizing power of his Christian kind- 
ness, to attend our week-day evening classes, opened for 
such from the first, within our old humble tan -loft church. 

" No doubt we yearn to see and hear of fruit ; but the 
Word of God and experience warn us to beware of dog- 
matizing about any while yet in this wilderness. Never- 
theless, the lady of whom I have spoken, and others my 
fellow-labourers, as well as myself, have no hesitation in 
speaking of two — a man and a woman — who, in health 
and in sickness, in life and in death, gave pleasing and 
decisive evidence of being brought to the knowledge of 
the truth as it is in Jesus, while residing in that district, 
and who, we believe, are now where he is — ' with Christ, 
which is far better/ 

"Others were brought to church-going habits, and I 
need not explain to you the restraining and elevating 
power of two decidedly godly among even twenty families 
At least one lad of his class was effectually awakened to 
self-respect, in such a degree as to remove to the west 
country, and, under an uncle, there to become an ap- 



122 



MEMORIALS OF 



prentice to a respectable trade which he has acquired ; 
recently to withdraw his brother with himself, in order to 
his moral elevation also, which he certainly was not 
attaining at home ; and he continues, we believe, to help 
to pay his mother's rent here from term to term. I re- 
gret that I cannot add, that I feel sure that he does all 
this in the fear of God and out of love to Christ ; still 
such qualities render him hopeful. 

" I may mention, as a distinguishing mark of his Chris- 
tian character and missionary zeal among us, his simple 
faith in the exercise of prayer. He truly believed in 
prayer. Alas, how few practically do ! He was wont to 
arrange with the lady visitor to make special and secret 
supplication for individuals, one by one, among the old 
and young, as occasion called or opportunity offered. He 
failed not to take advantage of the promise : 1 If any two 
of you shall agree on earth touching what ye shall ask, it 
shall be done unto you of my Father who is in heaven.' 

" To this day his memory is blessed in the district. 
All that remain in it, that knew him, are awed, subdued, 
softened, at the mention of his name. They have been 
made sure of this : that a servant of the Lord hath been 
among them * and that, by Mr. Mackintosh's Christian 
example, by his holy life as well as by his lips, the king- 
dom of God has come nigh unto them. 

" As for us, when we think of the Christian freshness 
and fervid enthusiasm of these youthful West Port days, 
with Dr. Chalmers at our head, and Mr. Mackintosh and 
others at our side, now no more here, we are constrained 
to say : 

' Of joj's departed, never to return — > 
How painful the remembrance !' 

until the day break and the shadows flee away." 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



123 



CHAPTER VI. 

1847-48 LASSWADE — LETTERS TO WIDOW MACKENZIE JENNY LIND's 

CONCERT LETTER TO FREE CHURCH MINISTER LETTERS TO POOR 

CHRISTIAN FRIENDS IN THE NORTH BAD HEALTH VISIT TO HIS 

FATHER'S GRAVE LETTER TO A YOUNG FRIEND. 

Laurel Bank, Lasswade, might seem to have been 
John's ideal of a residence. It was surrounded by the 
sweetest scenery, with endless walks of rural beauty, were 
these even confined to the picturesque grounds of Melville 
Castle, Dalkeith Palace, Newbattle Abbey, Koslin, or 
Hawthornclen. Edinburgh too was but a few miles off. 
At home he had leisure to read, with the companionship 
of his mother and sister, and no severe duties, as when in 
town, to task his energies ; while in his immediate neigh- 
bourhood were many old and attached friends. Yet, in 
spite of these advantages, the two years spent in Lass- 
wade were, owing to the state of his health, years of com- 
parative suffering. He found the climate too relaxing, 
and suffered constantly from his old enemy dyspepsia. 
There is, therefore, not much in his history during these 
years, as far as can be gathered from his Diary and 
Letters, that would interest the reader. He attended the 
ministry of the Free Church clergyman, Mr. Pitcairn, but 
lived on the most intimate terms with his old friend Mr. 



124 



MEMORIALS OF 



Mackenzie, the parish minister. He pursued his studies ; 
did good to all as he had an opportunity ; visited the 
sick ; helped, as he could, the poor ; and enjoyed the 
society of his friends. 

" June 11. — Finished and returned vol. i. of Foster's 
Life, but have not yet got vol. ii. Like it on the whole. 
The character intense ; imaginative ; original because 
observant and thoughtful ; little addicted to the serener 
parts of philosophy; pensive, but not horror-isli. Yet 
withal, under the cloak of 1 individuality, 7 too misanthropic 
and selfish. Many feel insulated as he did, who yet make 
nobler and more successful efforts to overcome the feeling. 
Chalmers seems an instance of this, as may be gathered 
from his commentary on Ps. cxix. 19: 'I indeed feel 
myself a stranger, and have marvellously little sympathy 
with my fellows ; but hide not from me a knowledge of 
Thy will, nor suffer me to hide myself from those of my 
own flesh.' And yet who so singularly laboured with 
and for his fellows ! 

" Went in the afternoon to a meeting of the Evangelical 
Alliance in Edinburgh. Heard some good things from 
Angell James. But I seem to myself so little able to 
understand sectarianism, that all this fine talk is like so 
many truisms ; — 'tis like a sermon to me on justification 
by faith alone, my mind seems so incapable of receiving 
any different idea of justification. The common love of 
my neighbour, however, and of his soul, is a topic on 
which I cannot hear too much, being sore deficient in it. 7 ' 

" Deficient, 7 ' no doubt ; but yet real hearty love to the 
neighbour was there, as the following letter to old Widow 
Mackenzie testifies : — 

" Lasswade, June 22. 
" My dear Mrs. Mackenzie, — I have been very long of 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



125 



writing you, so long that I daresay you think I have for- 
gotten you altogether. Ah ! that is impossible. My 
thoughts daily revert to the dear old place and its inhabi- 
tants, whom I envy, and with whom I think I could gladly 
exchange lots. I can scarcely believe I am not again 
to come down this summer to see you all, and have my 
Sabbath evening meetings with the young men, and my 
sequestered meditative walks past your house and in other 
quarters. I often picture you and some others to my 
mind, and wonder if you are still the same, and if every- 
thing goes on as formerly, now that happy home is shut 
up and silent. There are few things I look back on with 
greater pleasure than my religious associations with the 
place, and my intercourse with God's people among you ; 
these are the brightest, greenest spots in my memory, and 
the joy of such thoughts is solid, because it relates to that 
which can never pass away. I think especially of the old 
folk among you, and the words of counsel I have heard from 
your lips ; I owe you all a debt for it, which I trust I shall 
acknowledge throughout eternity. How are you, my dear 
old friend ? I hope as well as your advanced age can 
lead you to expect ; still happy by your quiet fireside, and 
able to read and feed on the Word, and other good books 
founded on the Word. If this be the case, you have 
reason to be thankful. May God grant you still a green 
old age, and ever clearer views of your own sinfulness, 
Christ's fulness, and the Spirit's power. Be assured you 
are not forgotten in my prayers, as I believe I am not in 
yours. I need it much, having received many mercies 
from God, and proved as yet an ungrateful and unprofit- 
able servant. My mother and sister are now living with 
me here. 'Tis a pleasant house and neighbourhood, about 
six miles south of Edinburgh, and though not yet a manse, 



126 



MEMORIALS OF 



as near a manse in its character as I can make it. My 
mother and sister are both well and happy, and desire to 
be remembered to you with old kindness. All my other 
friends are well whom you know of. I stayed for some 
months with your friend Miss Jollie, and found it very 
agreeable and improving. 

" The students and the Church generally have sus- 
tained a sad loss in the death of Dr. Chalmers, of which 
you must have heard. He was, indeed, ripe for glory, and 
has left us a rich example to follow his steps as he fol- 
lowed Christ. My minister, Mr. Brown, is in excellent 
health, and much blessed and favoured of God in his own 
soul, and in his ministry. I hope your own minister has 
turned out as well as was expected. 

" Would I could come and see you ! but ever believe 
me, present or absent, your very affectionate friend, 

John Mackintosh.' 7 

The only events which broke in upon the even tenor of 
this year, were, first of all, a residence for a few days at 
Callander with his aunt;, then a pleasant "raid" into 
the Highlands with his youngest sister and his cousins, 
Eobert and Thomas Strong; and, finally, hearing Jenny 
Lind in Edinburgh. Passionately fond of music as he 
was, this was a great delight to him. He thus writes 
his youngest sister, then in the north, about the con- 
cert : — 

" the darling ! She was received rapturously, and 
I literally yelled. She is not pretty, but — the very em- 
bodiment of poetry — her face is literally suffused with 
genius ; and, as she sings, becomes beautiful and heavenly. 
She's little, very pale, looks about seventeen, her hair 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



127 



crisped, her nose flattish, but pretty mouth and teeth, and 
an eye (that is to say, two eyes) full of meaning, neck 
and arms very white, and well-bred looking ; to complete 
all, very nicely dressed. She was at first very nervous 
and melancholy looking, but very soon threw her whole 
soul and being into the song, and forgot her own emotions. 
I think this is one of her greatest charms — her earnest- 
ness, and her impassioned seriousness. child ! how she 
wailed out Malibran's song in the Sonnambula ! and then 
with notes of silver clearness and sweetness bounded off 
in the 1 Ah non grunge' — it haunts me with ecstasy! 
There is far more originality in her voice than in Grisi's, 
it is round and ringing ; and she passes so exquisitely 
from gushing fulness into low, sweet, plaintive airs, and 
trills just like the wind.'' 

A few days after this, he received a letter from a 
Christian friend, 4; attacking him" for going to the con- 
cert. He quietly discusses the matter in his Diary, and 
says : — 

" Were I a minister I would probably not go, knowing 
that some disapprove of them, and fearing to make such 
stumble. In the meantime, I would encourage them to 
the disparagement of the stage, there being nothing ne- 
cessarily wrong in a concert, even as at present conducted, 
while there is such in the present condition of the stage. 
Music is a Divine art : its performers of average respec- 
tability ; the audience grave, and of all classes ; the hours 
regular ; and the excitement moderate. It is very easy 
in everything to go all lengths, but I doubt its judicious 
ness — extremes meet in their effects. By drawing the 
line too tightly, it snaps altogether. 

Diary. — " Sept. 21. — Just as awoke, received note in- 



128 



MEMORIALS OF 



viting me to . Delighted to go ; yet sore cast down 

at fresh interruptions to study. Lay retracing past life, es- 
pecially my connexion with Halley, and the dawn of my 
mind and character, so far as I can now from an eminence 
look back upon it. Prayed and read. Got several verses 
in my portion of Proverbs that rebuked my impatience 
under God's providence, as these interruptions of course 
are, and brought me to a happier mood — ' The foolishness 
of man perverteth his way, and fretteth against the Lord/ 
and the like. May these interruptions not be for my 
greater good ? and am I not too apt to form my own idea 
of what will fit me for God's service, and, as it were, force 
that upon God ? . . . Home at half-past twelve, and had 

just composed myself for study when announced. 

Eemembered verses in the morning, and went down cheer- 
ful and resigned. . . With my desire and deep -felt necessity 
for study, these interruptions are a painful mystery. Is 
it an intimation that I should not enter into the ministry ? 

" Sept. 29. — I regret I have dropped my classics ; must 
retrieve my error. Began with Plato's Phaedon, and 
relished it. Many serious thoughts crossed me in study- 
ing^ — the importance of greater sacredness of life, and 
deeper and more vivid thoughts of God in Christ — much 
humbled and solemnized. I think it was Lushington's 
remark, in his fresh and beautiful inaugural lecture, on 
the difference perceptible in the Greek Fathers who had 
found a resting-place for their souls, and the classic Greeks, 
who had none, that first struck the chord within me. 

" Oct. 4. — By putting off, was not in time to meet 
mother at the railway. I feel very sensitive of inattention 
to her, however slight, and this cut me to the heart. May 
such never happen again ! 

" Oct. 17. — Talk with about the Christian's bear- 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



129 



ing to the world, and condemned excessive separation from 
it of some : coinciding with Simeon's views in his letter 
to the Duke of Bedford, which I have often expressed 
almost in Simeon's words. Nothing irritates me so much 
(I fear to an unguarded degree) as the idea of spiritual 
despotism. I should like to read Taylor's opinion on this 
point. I can hear to he remonstrated with on spiritual 
subjects ; but not to be dictated to. for a soul-subdu- 
ing look from Christ, such as He cast on Peter ! how 
effectually could it accomplish the matter at any time, 

and far more ! 's birth-day. Thought much of her, 

and prayed much for her." 

A few days after the above Diary was penned, a mini- 
ster of the Free Church, whom he much loved, and whose 
judgment he much respected, called for him at Lasswade. 
and earnestly remonstrated with him against " occasional 
attendance at churches of the Establishment," as "indi- 
cating a departure from his principles." Alluding to this 
conversation in his Diary, and after recording the argu- 
ment held on both sides, he says : "It agitated my mind, 
as I am constitutionally nervous and timid, and greatly 
dislike controversy. My desire is to serve God quietly 
and unnoticed, if men would only let me. . . . But timid 
as I am. I know that the whole universe cannot turn me 
from my sentiments, till I am satisfied of their untruth." 

After calmly and prayerfully weighing the epiestion 
between him and his friend, he addressed to him, " and 
through him to all and sundry," the following letter — a 
copy of which was found among John Mackintosh's papers. 

M My dear Sie. — As your visit yesterday was so hurried, 
I think it right, and indeed cannot rest until I set you in 
possession of some of the leading arguments on which I 

i 



130 



MEMORIALS OF 



ground my occasional attendance in churches of the 
Establishment— a line of conduct which I conscientiously 
determined to pursue before I left Cambridge, and gave 
in my adherence to the Free Church, which I have, from 
the first moment of coming down to Scotland, followed 
out, and which I have never shrunk from, not only de- 
fending but advocating among my friends of all classes, 
as many of them can testify. It is a subject on which 
I feel deeply ; and, therefore, if I should appear guilty of 
vehemence or presumption in stating my opinions, I can 
only plead the strength with which they possess me, and 
my unwillingness to counterfeit a tone of diffidence which 
I do not feel. 

" As I stated then to you before, I view the Esta- 
blished Church as homologating the doctrines more or 
less directly, that the State may interfere in spiritual 
matters, and that, in certain circumstances, a pastor may 
be intruded on a people : I can agree with neither of these 
doctrines, nor in any way be a party to their practical 
working ; consequently, I cannot be a member or minister 
of the Established Church. But here my 1 consequently' 
begins, and here it ends. In the abstract view of the 
subject, I have never yet seen any valid argument for 
going further, nor can I conceive of any, and the onus 
probandi rests with you. To secure our principles, we 
abandoned State support. Had those who now compose 
the Establishment chosen to waive their Erastian senti- 
ment for the sake of unity, and remained with us, I sup- 
pose we should have allowed them; but having, the 
majority of them, preferred State alliance to Church 
unity, they left us, and are now, as we consider them — 
the Established Secession. Why, then, should we treat 
them differently from any other evangelical body of 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



131 



Seceders and Dissenters from us, and put a ban on their 
churches and their pulpits? By occasional attendance 
there, or even by occasional preaching there, I no more 
homologate their obnoxious doctrines, or render myself 
liable to carrying them oat in practice, than I do in the 
case of other churches by like conduct. The majority of 
the present Establishment never held our doctrines on the 
disputed points, and consequently never lapsed from them, 
and are, therefore, entitled to be treated as conscientious 
Seceders. I cannot see that their receiving State support 
alters the case, though I cannot but think, in many minds 
this is the one reason for their being marked out for a 
special treatment. 

" But to come to the expediency view of it, it will be 
said that the separation being so recent, we should be 
more jealous of countenancing them in any way lest some 
should be misled, and think our difference immaterial. 
To this I reply, that I think it best to begin as we mean 
to end, otherwise there is far more risk of our afterwards 
appearing to decline from the steadfastness of our convic- 
tions. Why, from motives of policy, put the matter on 
a higher footing even than we think it deserves ? There 
is no course of conduct that may not be misinterpreted, 
if people choose ; but I think, that from the first, so strong 
has been the general repugnance to the Establishment, 
so little the likelihood of halting and concessions on that 
side, that the counteractive should be applied all the 
other way. I am persuaded that many of our people en- 
tertain very erroneous and unenlightened notions of the 
grounds of our separation, and any ultra conduct on my 
part would only tend among those around me to heighten 
these. Indeed it is with poignant regret, I could even 
say with distress, that I have long observed what I 



132 



MEMORIALS OF 



thought the false position which our Church and the 
members of our Church were taking up — that instead of 
the high and dignified attitude of regarding mainly the 
State in their separation, and cherishing a feeling of 
benevolence and love towards all, whether erring or dis- 
senting churches, they have, to some extent, degraded 
themselves into the character of a sect by hostility to 
the Establishment. I feel deeply persuaded, that had we 
from the first assumed a loftier and more generous tone, 
our position in the country would have been different, 
even from the splendid one which we still are permitted 
to occupy. Our bounds would have been greatly ex- 
tended, and our opportunities of usefulness to the Esta- 
blishment and other Churches vastly increased. Instead 
of this, we have voluntarily checked their sympathies and 
kindly feelings, and thrown up a wall of separation be- 
tween us, which it would take generations to undo. We 
gave such emphatic testimony to our principles at the 
Disruption, that no further measures, it seems to me, were 
required for the purpose, and all beyond it, whether justly 
or not, is set down by the world at large to the score of 
revenge ; the first we did rightly enough for God, they 
say, the rest for human nature. Be it so, I have always 
answered — and allowances must be made for infirmity in 
all human transactions — but it is not too late yet to re- 
trieve our way in part. By taking up a position which 
is not tenable by argument, we incur the risk, as has 
already happened, of losing adherents who, when forced 
from ground that was in truth ultra, hastily abandoned 
all. By a calm but judicious bearing, we shall not only 
make sure of our friends, but be more likely to win over 
our opponents. In this hope, I have never omitted any 
opportunity, within my own sphere, of stating my opinions 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



133 



to friends and companions ; and not without the belief 
that in the judgment of some of those whom I most re- 
spected, I found a response. Moreover, I had always till 
yesterday pleased myself with the idea, that you and 
others were tacitly of the same way of thinking, and even 
now, while I admit the apparent presumptuousness of hold- 
ing my opinions in the face of such a majority, yet holding 
them so clearly and strongly as I do, I can account for the 
unanimity on the other side on no other supposition than 
that it is a spell communicated from one to another in 
the enthusiasm of the battle, but which must one day 
give place to milder sentiments. Taking the wider sur- 
vey of the Church as the Church Catholic, I know that 
I should find support in the authority of many who are 
most distinguished for piety and wisdom, so that my 
belief in their correctness is entitled to greater confidence. 

" In conclusion, allow me to say that I trace the in- 
jurious effect of our present position not only on those 
who differ from us, but on ourselves. I cannot refrain 
from saying to you, that I think it has no small share in 
that want of progress in our own, and consequently our 
neighbour's, Christianity which you yesterday deplored. 
In the mass of minds, I feel it must be inconsistent with 
the spirit of love, and tend to beget self-complacency as 
well as other sinful feelings. While in regard to the dif- 
fusion of the Gospel, and of a loving spirit, I will freely 
confess, for my own part, to take but one instance, that 
I have never been able to get over the feeling of incon- 
gruity to my mind, in our Church, or members of our 
Church, advocating the Evangelical Alliance, while they 
treated the Establishment as an exception. I fancy to my- 
self that I have traced the blight and dwarfing effects of 
this feeling even more in individual members of our Church. 



134 



MEMORIALS OF 



" To be more personal in my communication, I must 
say that I never felt more strongly attached to the Free 
Church than I do now ; and on this account all the more 
do I feel grieved for the above circumstances. I have 
to thank you very cordially for being the first to speak 
so frankly to me, and thereby give me an opportunity of 
speaking out my sentiments, and vindicating my conduct. 
I have long known that my conduct was canvassed, but 
felt much pained that I could find no opportunity of ex- 
plaining myself. Your kindness has relieved me, and 
while I feared at first it might disturb the serenity of my 
studies, I now believe your visit happened well for me in 
the Providence of God. I have no wish this letter should 
be private between us, but that it may be submitted to 
whom you please. If you are kind enough to meet my 
arguments by writing or at our next meeting, I shall be 
very grateful to you, and, I hope, weigh your answers im- 
partially, as I know no consideration that should bias me 
either way against the truth. Entreating your prayers 
that the Spirit of grace may lead me into all truth, I 
remain, with unalterable affection and respect, very truly 
yours, John Mackintosh. 

" P.S. — I should be unwilling, if it could be avoided, 
and as there will be abundant opportunity for interviews, 
to carry on the discussion by writing, as I find it would 
occupy so much of my time. 

"I should also say — which, however, is of no consequence 
while the principle is held — that I find I have attended 
at an Established Church more than once since I came 
here — I believe, on three occasions. I said one to you 
yesterday, having no time to recall the right number. I 
have kept this letter for a re-perusal, and also that it 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



135 



might not interfere with your Sabbath preparations. In 
reading the Scriptures this morning, it struck me that, 
on the subject of expediency, Paul's example to Timothy 
to avoid stumbling weak brethren, is that most generally 
quoted ; but that being a matter of expediency, it was 
not likely the one side of his conduct would be recorded 
without an instance of the other. Accordingly, the narra- 
tive in the 2d chapter of Galatians immediately occurred 
to me, where he gave place to the prejudices of his friends. 
4 no, not for an hour/ Many points seemed to me, on 
referring to the passage, as very parallel to my case. 
While I say this, I repeat what I said when we met, that 
were I minister of a congregation, I might see it my duty 
to yield in some measure to the prejudices of those whose 
good I had specially to consider.'' 

Being thus obliged to differ in opinion with such a friend 
on such a subject, gave him more pain than could be be- 
lieved by those who did not know his acute and sensitive 
feelings. In his Journal, he remarks : " I have been 
violently moved by this business, yet spirit-solemnized, 
and looked up to God in Christ for countenance and 
support, and felt much love. I posted it with the prayer 
that it might not be misinterpreted, or alienate my dear 
friend Mr. or others. Eesolved anew to make my- 
self over to Christ, and, forgetting self, to seek only to do 
His service. '* 

There was nothing he guarded with such jealousy as 
his own sense of what was right. On another occasion, 
when he thought himself unduly interfered with as to his 
not taking license, he says : — " Whether under delusion 
or not, I chose the ministry, and subsequently the I^ee 
Church, from a simple regard to Christ, without reference 



136 



MEMORIALS OF 



to any human being's influence or opinion ; and liaving 
found the freedom and elasticity which this gives me, I 
feel very jealous of the interposition of any other influence 
or restraint. May God give me grace to reject such, if it 
present itself, and to maintain my liberty in Christ with- 
out licentiousness." 

I may add, that the mutual love which existed between 
John and the friend to whom he addressed the above 
letter, remained unabated on both sides, all the days of 
his life. 

" Dec, 29, 1847. . . spoke to me of taking license 

and succeeding ; a most eligible place from size, 

neighbourhood, manse, and seclusion : it seems, in- 
tends to resign, and wishes me to succeed him. Eeplied 
decidedly that the reason of my delay to take license, viz., 
unfitness, could not yield to so tempting an offer; that 
though the work there was mild, that the people might 
not have me, and I might be ushered on that field of bustle 
elsewhere, which I deprecated. Moreover, that in enter- 
ing the Free Church, I had made up my mind to hard- 
ships, should God so order it, and did not therefore feel at 
liberty to go out of my way in order to secure an easy 
berth, or avoid sharing alike with my brethren ; I thanked 
him most warmly for his kind interest in suggesting it ; and 
that I might not appear hasty, said, I would look on his 
proposal as a call to inquire my way of the Lord, and then 
respond finally and deliberately, although I suspected my 
first impressions were correct and final." 

In a letter written about this time to his friend, Mr. 
Macintyre (Free Church Minister, Monikie), he says — 

" . . . I could wish to grow in simplicity of dependence 
upon Him, taking orders, as it were, every day and every 
hour at His mouth, what He would have me to do as His 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



137 



servant and soldier. What a deal of uncertainty and over- 
anxiety as to our course and present employment would 
this take from us ! It would, indeed, be rolling our bur- 
den on the Lord, and, if done with unceasing prayer and 
childlike humility, making Him responsible as if for our 
progress and success. But it would need a very very 
single eye, and deadness to self in all its subtle interests. 
Were each servant of Christ thus to radiate from the 
centre, what an army of occupation would the Christian 
host be !" 

I have already alluded to his humble friends at Geddes, 
and the friendship which he never ceased to cultivate 
with them by " pen and ink," when unable to see them 
"face to face." Here are two of those letters. The 
ploughman is still alive, and still, I believe, bears an ex- 
cellent Christian character. Alexander M 'Arthur was the 
son of a small farmer in the north, and was then dying of 
consumption. 

TO JAMES , PLOUGHMAN. 

" Lasswade, Sept. 18, 1847. 
" My dear James, .... The tone of your letter is 
such that, believing you to be diligent and earnest in the 
Christian life, I do not feel qualified to send you advice, 
as in the case of some other young men of my acquaint- 
ance, in different parts of the country, to whom my letters, 
therefore, may be more necessary. My chief object, then, 
in writing you, is to perpetuate a friendship which you 
seem unwilling to drop, and which is certainly endeared 
to me by many very sweet and tender recollections of the 
past. If you are indeed a child of God, you will not feel 
flattered by what I say of my incapacity to advise you, 
but probably humbled from a knowledge of your own 



138 



MEMORIALS OF 



heart, such as I cannot have, while yon give God the 
praise for whatever He has done for you, in enabling you 
to know its desperate wickedness, and in some measure 
to subdue it. It is a feeling of this depravity of heart 
that makes me write so humbly to you — for I am not a 
Keverend, as you suppose ; but I am still delaying to 
labour among others, with a view to farther preparation 
for it. This I find renders me more exposed to the as- 
saults of sin and of the world ; for I verily believe there 
are few things so helpful to our growth in grace, as con- 
cerning ourselves actively for the souls of others. . Still 
I trust that with me, as with you, the current of my soul 
is towards God, and the desire of my heart after holiness ; 
but the progress that may be made in this, by a faithful 
use of the means of grace, I seem but beginning to know, 
while I feel greatly guilty for the meanness of my attain- 
ment. 

" The prevalence of ungodliness in our land, and the 
withdrawal of so many of God's witnesses, call upon us 
to be more than ever circumspect in our walk and close 
in our relations to God. Each of us should live and act 
as if on him depended the maintenance of vital religion 
in the Church, or, at all events, the preserving of a health- 
ful salt in his neighbourhood. Indeed, did we but know 
or consider what depends upon our individual exertions 
for good or evil around us, it would make our walk more 
careful, our feelings more solemn, and our reference to 
God more real and habitual every day and every hour ; 
but I trust you know something of this, and that with 
others you will be honoured and blessed of God in main- 
taining His cause where you now are, and by and bye 
supplying the places of those whom He takes before you 
to glory. 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



139 



u I heard from Mr. C. not long' ago, and am delighted to 
know, from a later date, that the Sunday evening meet- 
ings still continue and prosper. My thoughts often recur 
to them and to you all at that precious time, nor can I well 
describe to you the feeling I have in thinking' that some 
of you remember me at the throne of grace, and thus 
return the interest I take in your welfare. The accounts 
of Sandy Macarthur's protracted illness grieve me much. 
I may perhaps write him, but I trust the Lord is ripen- 
ing His work in him, so that to him to live may be Christ, 
and to die gain. 

" Eemember me very warmly to my friends around you, 
at the Square and elsewhere, and believe me to be, my 
dear James, your sincere friend, J. Mackintosh." 

TO ALEXANDER m'ARTHUR. 

" Lasswade, Nov. 19. 1847. 
" My dear, dear Sandy, — On asking my sister, who 
has just returned from the north, about all my friends, I 
came to you, and she said she had not seen you, but had 
heard that you were very frail and poorly. This has 
given me much sorrow, though not so much on your 
own account as on that of yonr friends, among whom I 
number myself. Should the Lord be pleased to take 
you to Himself, I would always feel it a pensive thought 
that one so near my own ag'e, with whom I had taken 
sweet counsel at an interesting period of my life, and 
whom I had expected to meet again as my fellow-traveller, 
had gone before and left me without the stimulus of his 
example. For you, however, my dear Sandy, I believe 
it would be great gain. I trust, as your bodily strength 
declined, the Lord has been manifesting Himself more 
and more to your spirit. I sometimes try to bear you 



140 



MEMORIALS OF 



fervently on my heart before God. There is a reality in 
the simple truths of His Word, which we only require to 
know deeper, and without any new knowledge our souls 
will be filled as with marrow and fatness. It is the Holy 
Spirit, through meditation and prayer, that gives us this 
insight, as you well know, I believe, by experience ; and 
God is often pleased to employ the season of sickness for 
this blessed end. to live near Christ, yea in Him, by 
Him, to Him ! That Divine Person, the brightness of 
the Father's glory, and the express image of His person, 
yet our fellow-man, must be the great centre of our 
thoughts, our affections, and our deep devotion. Having 
Him, we have all. He has all power in heaven and in 
earth ; can, therefore, provide for all our concerns here, 
and preserve our body and soul to everlasting life. My 
dear Sandy, I am sure we may say, as we have often said 
before, what a dreary earth this of sorrow and changes 
but for Christ our blessed companion through it, and that 
glorious hope of everlasting life. My heart is very warm 
to you when I think of the past, and those qualities in 
you which endeared you to me. How I wish I had the 
prospect of again seeing you, as of old ! I pray God He 
may lay His hand gently upon you, and sweeten your 
cup with many mercies. I fear I cannot expect you to 
write me, from your weakness ; but if it were not a burden 
to you, it would give me very great pleasure were you 
to dictate a few words to George or any other of your 
family, which they might send me. It is for them I feel, 
for I am sure they must love you very much, and be very 
sad to see you drooping. Pray remember me to your 
father and all. Tell George I hope his studies are pro- 
spering, and above all, that his soul is growing in grace. 
If you have opportunity, will you remember me to Widow 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



141 



M., to the Campbells, and any other friends about you, 
to Jenny and Wm. F. And now farewell, my dear Sandy. 
Eemember me sometimes when you feel near the throne, 
and believe me to be, your affectionate friend, 

John Mackintosh." 

Having received a reply to this letter, he says, in his 
Diary : — " A very touching and gratifying letter from 
Sandy, for which I desire to humble myself and give 
thanks to God." 

"Jan. 9, 1848. — My birth-day, aged twenty-six. Awoke 
to renewed confession of sin, recognition of utter weakness 
in myself, and profession of reliance entire on Divine 
grace. Anew made myself over to Christ — to renounce 
self, the world, the flesh, and the clevil, and to consecrate 
myself to His service. Prayed long and fervently on those 
heads, and that this year I may grow in grace, in the 
knowledge and love of God, and of His Son Jesus Christ, 
of His Word, of His people, and of His cause ; that I may 
grow in knowledge, righteousness, and true holiness, in 
fitness for the ministry, and in discerning clearly my call 
to it. I pray also that I may better discharge my duty to 
my neighbour, whether relative or friend, high or low ; 
and, on this head, that in certain company I may neither 
err by unbecoming levity, nor offend by undue austerity ; 
to hit the mean here. My chief snare in time past is 
indeed beyond me ; but Lord, give me a single eye, and 
do Thou teach me the way wherein I should go. 

" Jan. 24. — God grant my heart may not decline, but 
in the midst of a jarring and suspicious world, keep me in 
the secret of Thy presence. Hide me from the strife of 
tongues, and make me unobtrusively useful to my fellow- 
men in Thy service." 



142 



MEMORIALS OF 



TO WIDOW MACKENZIE. 

" Lass wade, Jan. 18, 1848. 

" My dear Widow Mackenzie, — I bear you on my 
heart often at the throne of grace, and should be glad to 
know from you that, as you approach the gates of the 
celestial world, your soul is admitted to nearer communion 
with God, and to a foretaste of glory. Is the Word becom- 
ing more and more precious to you above all other books, 
however holy ? Is Christ becoming more invaluable to you 
— your all in all — in His person, His offices, and His 
work ? Ah ! my dear old friend, this world passes away, 
and the things thereof, but Christ is a portion that can 
never fail us. Without Him, how gloomy — with Him, 
how bright and intelligible all events, even death itself ! 
I suppose, if we are to make any real progress in the 
Divine life and knowledge, it must be in the direct ac- 
knowledgment that the Holy Spirit is our great Teacher ; 
and may He, therefore, teach you and me, even when our 
natural faculties appear to be failing. 

" I have a strange feeling, through not having been 
north as usual last summer, and seen all my old friends 
about Geddes. I sometimes doubt whether summer has 
really fled without it ; yet not the less does my heart 
cling to the very dust and stones of the place, and how 
much more to its inhabitants, old and young ! . . . 

" It is but too probable we shall never meet again in 
the flesh ; but I trust we are both travellers to that world 
where there shall be no separation." 

TO JAMES , PLOUGHMAN. 

" Lasswade, March 3. 
" My dear James, ... I can conceive no situation 
more favourable for leading a quiet, honest, godly, and 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



143 



happy life, than that of an unambitious tenant farmer. 
I might even go the length of warning you against too 
enterprising a spirit, by which your worldly cares might 
be increased, to the disadvantage of your peace and piety. 

" I could sometimes almost envy those whose walk it 
is to ply a healthful labour, with Solomon's mean be- 
tween poverty and riches, and ample leisure, even in the 
calling, to occupy the soul with thoughts of God and the 
welfare of those about them. Every condition, however, 
has its own trials, and with these its own supports, its 
own promises, its own rewards. Blessed be that ever- 
ruling wisdom that assigns to each of us our own place ! 
Let our part be to learn what that place is, by direct 
counsel from God. Of course this matter of yours you 
will spread before God, and ascertain what He would 
have you do. When we thus acknowledge Him in all 
our ways, we may expect His blessing in our path, and 
His guidance to the end ; whereas when we devise and 
struggle on without God, not to say against Him, it is 
but one succession of failure upon failure. 

"It is a great matter, I feel, to attain to that personal 
and habitual communion with Christ our Lord in prayer, 
that we can, as it were, see Him face to face, and be 
guided by His eye. I believe we are too content to walk 
in a kind of twilight, guided by an obscure sense of duty, 
which may be called the reflection of His beams, when, 
were our spirits more exercised, we might have the clear 
and quickening radiance of the Sun Himself. We are 
entitled, if only our hearts be pure, to expect a voice con- 
tinually in our ears, saying — This is the way, walk thou 
in it. Let us seek this, then, dear James, especially 
in matters of importance, and we shall never err or go 
astray." 



144 



MEMORIALS OF 



TO ALEXANDER M 4 ARTHUR. 

" Lasswade, May 18. 

" My dear Sandy M'Arthur, . . . My mother writes me 
that she did not see you, indeed, but heard you were very 
much reduced, and this again gives me sorrow and ap- 
prehension. Yet why should I say sorrow, for I believe 
you can say, To me to live is Christ, and to die gain. 
Blessed are they whom God chastens, and thus brings 
near to Himself to be taught by His gracious Spirit the 
mysteries of the kingdom, and to be enlightened in the 
knowledge of Jesus Christ. The sufficiency of His atone- 
ment, the riches of His love, the tenderness of His care, 
the glories of His character and person, the faithfulness 
of His promises, the excellence of His precepts, become 
to such a one realities, and not mean doctrines and names. 

" I trust, my dear Sandy, that you are daily feeding 
upon Christ in all His manifold attributes and offices, and 
finding Him meat indeed and drink indeed. You will 
thus be prepared, meekly and lovingly, for whatever may 
be His will concerning you. I have sent you by Mrs. 
Mackintosh the present of M L Cheyne 1 s Life, which, I am 
sure, you will enjoy if you have not read it before. Pray 
give it to George to read, with my kind regards. I hope 
he is making progress intellectually and spiritually ; and if 
you should be able to write me again, I should be much 
interested to hear of him, what he is doing and intending 
to do. After all — the Word, the Word, the Word — this 
is what actually makes us grow through the Divine 
blessing, and especially in sickness, sorrow, or any other 
distress, — every other book beside it appears poor and 
insignificant." 

Although of a later date, I shall here give the last 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



145 



letter written to Widow Mackenzie, which will also finish 
his correspondence with those friends, then among the 
poor on earth, but the society of two of whom, I doubt 
not, he now shares in heaven. 

TO WIDOW MACKENZIE. 

u Lasswade, August 22. 
" My dear Widow Mackenzie, ... I trust the Lord is 
continuing to sustain you, and to fulfil that word in your 
experience, that, having known Him in your youth, now 
when ydfi are old and gray-headed, He will not forsake 
you. You are drawing nearer and nearer to the eternal 
world, and I trust have a desire to be with Christ, and to 
see Him as He is. I trust He is daily revealing to you more 
of His surpassing beauty, holiness, tenderness, and com- 
passion, and enabling you to feed upon Him in your heart 
by faith. I wish I were near to talk with you of Him, 
and to hear what He is teaching you. I think I have 
been in His school myself for some time — the school of 
discipline — and have been learning somewhat, which 
may yet be useful to myself and others. God grant it 
be so." 

" April 7. — My work very regular this week, my pro- 
gress steady ; yet it is long now since I have felt any 
elasticity of mind, or any of that 1 joy,' which, as Coleridge 
says, clothes all things with its effluence. I believe the 
weather of these two months has much' to do with it, as 
well as my sedentariness ; and am not without hopes that 
one day it may return. Meanwhile, let me persevere 
humbly, prayerfully, resolutely in duty. 

" April 17. — While many fancy I am indulging in 
selfish luxury in study, I have daily cause to know that 

K 



146 



MEMORIALS OF 



it is a weariness to the flesh. I envy those in active 
employment ; my present position I compare to that of 
the British troops at Waterloo before being allowed to 
charge. 

" May 2. — At Exhibition, and again delighted with 
Turner's picture ; what refinement of colouring, what per- 
spective, what scope for the imagination ! Contrast this 
delicate ideal picture with the best landscapes in the 
room. They so deteriorate the eye, that it is some time 
before it can be purified for the higher style. The more 
one gazes upon him, the more one comes up to somewhat 
the measure of his suggestions." 

Not a month passes, hardly a week, in which some 
allusion to declining health does not occur. 

" May 4. — My strength wonderfully gone ; I may say, 
' My flesh is dried like a potsherd/ I attribute it to the 
rain we have had for the last three months, and my 
sedentary habits. 

" In future I shall endeavour never to let myself get so 
low. In the meantime, may this experience be blessed 
to make me forbearing with those whose bodily ailments 
quench their spirit. 

" Heavenly Father ! if this trial be also chastisement, 
show me wherein I have offended Thee ; for verily I 
thought that this winter my walk with Thee, in spite of 
many shortcomings, had been holier than wont, and my 
communion with Thee, and labour among Thy people, 
nearer and sweeter." 

To recover strength he went off for a week to Aber- 
deenshire, and on his way home spent some days with one 
of my brothers — an old Glasgow friend of his — at Craw- 
ford Priory, Fifeshire. He came home much refreshed, 
and blessing God " for all the happiness he had enjoyed, 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



147 



and desiring to consecrate his renovated powers anew to 
His service.'' 

But no sooner does he again settle at Lasswade than his 
sufferings are renewed — sleepless nights and weary days. 
Such distressing entries in his Diary as the following occur : 

11 May 20. — that weight ! I feel stifled and oppressed. 
My mind is as if under night-mare, and yet unable to 
shake it off.' 7 

tlnstt weight I" It was indeed time to do something 
to cast it off. Wearied and oppressed with this " stifled, 
drowsy, unimpassioned grief, " and dreaming of the sunshine 
and joy of the olden time, his heart turned instinctively 
to the north. He longed once more to get his foot upon 
the heather, and to "wander lonely as a cloud" among the 
solitudes of Braemar : while a strange yearning seized him 
to visit his father's grave, and to snatch a glimpse, if but 
for a moment, of the well-known scenes embalmed in hi* 
memory by which it was surrounded. The morbid feel- 
ing, occasioned by his state of body, can be easily under- 
stood, and need not be explained, which induced him to 
keep his intentions secret, even from his mother and sister. 
Unknown to all he must pursue his journey ; and neither 
to relative nor friend, north or south, shall he discover 
himself, but revel in the undisturbed luxury of his own 
thoughts, whether these were of joy or sorrow, the me- 
mories of a happy past, or the dim anticipations of a 
sadder future. Such was his humour, and thus he began 
his journey. 

" June 6. — Forenoon, read old journals. Packed port- 
manteau for Braemar. putting in Gibbon, three vols., 
Mosheim one. Locke two. Eeid's Works, Coleridge's Aids, 
Milton, Keats, Yinet. Fragments, and two last vols, of 
Scott. This will do. I think." 



148 



MEMORIALS OF 



From Aberdeen he started with his " knapsack on 
back ; day fine, but showery ; halted twice, and read 
Keats and Scott, the latter with great gusto; delicious 
siesta in wood, lulled by soft winds and waterfalls." 

His first halt was at the Castletown of Braemar, where 
he began to devour his books, as usual, within doors, and 
to enjoy the glories of the world without. Scott's Life 
greatly delighted him. 

" June 13. — (Castletown of Braemar.) Incessant and 
desperate rain. Bead Locke and Gibbon till four. Saun- 
tered out for a short time. Dined at five, and had a 
tumbler of toddy and a cigar ; then read Scott, beginning 
vol. x. The interest is now most pathetic, indeed, so as 
ever and anon to force the tear into one's eye ; the strength 
departing from that mighty spirit so suddenly, and so con- 
sciously withal; and the many beautiful traits of char- 
acter, formerly concealed, but, as Lockhart says, 'now 
trembling to the surface.' In reading it, too, we know the 
sequel, which adds a peculiar pathos to Scott's forebodings, 
and yet manful struggles against yielding to them. It 
is quite refreshing to hear of the universal kindness and 
sympathy shown him throughout the whole of his decline. 
There is something very wonderful in those overtowering 
spirits, and their influence over others, the recipients of a 
gift divine — they have a mission to perform. Mark how 
all the previous circumstances, or, as we would say, acci- 
dents of life conduce to this ; how in due time it is accom- 
plished ; and then the machine, as in one sense it may be 
called, is exhausted and removed. It is encouraging to 
think, that in the Christian world, where every stone has 
its part to fulfil, this process is enacted even in the hum- 
blest ; and I take comfort to myself in the thought, that 
though at present apparently useless on the earth, God 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



149 



may be fitting me in spite of my seemingly slow progress 
for some service to my fellow-men. 

" June 17. — Beached Scott's death; and how affecting 
the whole narrative of his stay in Italy ; his indifference 
to everything except as it reminded him of Scotland, and 
latterly, under a presentiment of his fate, his intense 
yearning to be home ; his last autograph at an inn in 
Switzerland, 'Walter Scott, for Scotland;' the sympathy 
shown hifn in London ; his revival and remarks on com- 
ing in sight of Tweedside and Abbotsford ; the scene with 
Laidlaw and the dogs ; and, finally, that minstrel close 
within hearing of his own dear Tweed. I am not ashamed 
to say that I have frequently sobbed outright — Grata 
quies patrice." 

But he had not as yet dived into the recesses of the 
wild hills. So he started for Glen Quoich, " whose love- 
liness and delicious odours," he says, " I enjoyed exces- 
sively. At top of the glen, turned to the left and saw a 
cottage, where I expected refreshment, but no one was 
in it ; I lay down faint with hunger — soon refreshed. 
Started many fine deer, and among them a doe, with 
fawn not many days old. The mother fled with little 
difficulty, but I caught the fawn, a lovely creature. I 
made of it so, that when I wished to leave it, it still ran 
by my side ; fearful that the mother might lose its track, 
I took to my heels, and it could not keep up with me. 
At first I was afraid that its mother might desert it, but 
consoled myself by thinking that we had both the same 
Protector. Descended into Glen Deny, which, as the sun 
declined, looked very beautiful. On reaching its outlet, 
where it joins Glen Lui, I discovered a cottage. It was 
now seven o'clock, and the idea struck me of asking a 
night's shelter here, and starting next morning for the 



150 



MEMORIALS OF 



ascent of Ben Macdhui. I did so accordingly, and found 
the owner of the cottage at the door, a tall handsome man, 
one of the Duke's keepers, and he at once, with the 
greatest courtesy and hospitality, bid me welcome." 
And now for the ascent of Ben Macdhui : — 
" June 20. — Started by moonlight, and according to 
keeper's directions took up Glen Derry. . After some 
marshy walking got upon Speyside track, on left bank of 
Derry ; but left it again at head of valley, when the path 
crossed coZ, but I followed the stream up a glen and a 
very steep hill to its source, in Loch Echatal ; a black 
tarn reflecting on its bosom the snow cliffs that rose from 
its margin. By this time I had passed considerably the 
snow level, and found myself among large fields of it. 
Much at a loss which way now to go, seeing no probable 
summit for Ben Macdhui, and, indeed, the highest visible 
in what I considered the wrong direction — to the north. 
Moreover, the Sappers and Miners' track now abandoned 
me, which the keeper had led me to expect was traceable 
to the very summit. Drew out map (Black's) ; thought 
I could make out Loch Echatal on it, and accordingly 
pushed on with crossing or rounding loch, and then clam- 
bered up very steep granite walls of hill. On getting up, 
saw far off what I thought must be my bourne, and 
accordingly made for it by very circuitous route, owing 
to the quantity of snow which I encountered, and which 
it was dangerous to traverse. At last, about seven o'clock, 
and considerably (no, not at all) fatigued, I reached a 
precipice at the base of the point I was making for, and 
here / was bamboozled. An open country of corn fields, 
wood, and cottages lay before me, and a great extent of 
prospect to the north and north-east. It must be Spey- 
side, and yet could it be Speyside, — for it did not quite 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



151 



answer my ideas of it. One thing was clear, my summit 
was not Ben Macdhui, for where were Glen Lui and 
Glen Dee, into which I was to descend ? It might be 
Cairngorm, and then the Ben would lie to the southward. 
I drew out my map, and tried by the sun and by Loch- 
na-Garr, which I descried to the east ; but among such 
innumerable summits, and having often been forced out of 
my path in getting hither, what certainty could I have ? 
One thing-, I thought, I still knew the whereabouts of 
Loch Echatal, and might find my way back as I came. 
Also, beyond Loch Echatal, I had descried in coming up 
another loch which I took to be Loch Avon, and which 
the map placed in the north side of Ben Macdhui. Well, 
I feasted on the view — saw what, if it were Speyside, 
must be Aviemore Inn — tried some barley bannocks, being 
hungry, but oh ! so dry, I could not use it ; and then my 
watch having now stopped from having no key to wind 
it, pushed southward for two black snow-covered peaks, 
which I there saw. Feeling a little chagrined, in case, 
after my trouble, I should miss the view from Ben Mac- 
dhui, I lifted my thoughts to God, as a Christian will do 
in perplexities, small or great. I had not gone far ere I 
heard a man's voice, and perceived sheep running towards 
me. I soon descried the cause, and hailed my friend. 
He came gladly, no doubt expecting a flask of whisky, 
being very thirsty like myself. He was a shepherd from 
Speyside, neighbourhood of Eothiemurchus ; told me the 
hill I had been on was Cairngorm, pointed out, not far off, 
the summit of Ben Macdhui, and told me my black friends 
were Cairn Toul and Brae Biach. This was most satis- 
factory. I regretted much having no dram to reward 
him with, and pushed on without crossing any valley to 
climb the summit. It was steep, covered, as I got higher, 



152 



MEMORIALS OF 



with, perfect quarries of granite boulders, hard for the 
feet. At last I gained the pile of stones erected on the 
top by the Sappers and Miners, and sat down to recon- 
noitre. The day was on the whole favourable, though 
not so hazeless as yesterday ; the hour, I guess, about nine 
o'clock. I distinctly made out houses, farms, Aviemore 
Inn, and the Spey, in Speyside ; but considerably more 
distant-looking than from Cairngorm. The knock of 
Brae Moray, and beyond it a long white line of sea, the 
Moray Firth probably at Nairn, awakened in my heart 
unutterable feelings. Indeed I was fairly overcome, and 
filled both with yearning and sadness. I briefly looked at 
Ben Wyvis, Ben-y-Gloe, and a very high range between 
these giants— probably Schehaliion or Ben Aulder, and 
then again, and again, and once again, turned and yearned 
towards the north. how lonely did I feel, far far off 
from men, and yet not far from God ! I felt as though 
I could talk with Him in Christ, as a man with his fel- 
low. My past life, from its very source, seemed spread 
out and mapped before me ; and. from this stand-point 
I felt as if I could even gaze into the future — so much did 
my heart yearn at the thought of Geddes, as it was, and 
as it is, with all around it, that I was forced for relief to 
turn my thoughts upward. God, my Father in Christ, 
how great has been Thy goodness to me, an unworthy 
child, all the days of my life ! To Thee anew I dedi- 
cate myself, and commend me to Thy keeping. What 
a Father ! What a Saviour and friend ! How sure Thy 
word ! How faithful Thy promises ! how wonderful Thy 
condescension ! Lord, I am Thine, fit and employ me 
in Thy service. All else, as those past joys and thoughts, 
pass away, being of earth ; but Thy service is an ever- 
lasting service, and Thy pleasures are for evermore. In 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



153 



this strain I went on, reading and singing pari; o the 
103d Psalm. I then bethought rne of all rny friends and 
relatives, and those whom I am wont to pray for. and inter- 
ceded for them, with a special remembrance of those at 
Geddes. At last I tore myself away from the summit, 
fearing clouds might gather and endanger the descent. 
One other look, and with a heawy heart I made for the 
south edge of the hill. 

" Here* I saw Cairn Toul and Brae Eiach before me. 
iindoubtedly the wildest dooking mountains I ever saw — 
the very brigands of the race. I saw the source of the 
Dee opposite, in the side of Brae Biack, and then its 
long winding, comparatively tiny, course in its valley. 
Also striking off from the centre of Glen Dee, and separ- 
ated from it by a col of no great height, Glen Lui. 
All things considered, my hunger. &c, I determined to 
make for this col, and then down Glen Lui as the short- 
est way home. It was, indeed, kittle work getting down, 
being just one sheer pile of loose granite boulders — the 
progress slow — the strain all on one set of muscles, and 
the footing hard. At last, however, by dint of patience 
and much care I did reach the col, and congratulated 
myself: the keeper had deterred me from going up on 
this side. I descended Glen Lui, which at last seemed 
interminable, and the heat tremendous : several times I 
tried to court the shade, but it was of no use. At length 
reached my friend the keeper's house ; where would 
fain have fed, but dreaded to take any more milk and 
cakes, having already suffered from them. Took a notion 
of whisky and water. Again bade them all adieu, with 
much gratitude, and started for Castleton, ten miles off. 
Hunger, however, and heat fairly exhausted me ere I 
reached Mar Lodge, half way — added to my entire want 



154 



MEMORIALS OF 



of sleep the previous night. I felt very breathless and 
uncomfortable ; besought a sofa at the Lodge, on which 
to rest a little, and some bread and water. The house- 
keeper gave me some ale and cranberries, on which I 
refreshed ; and after two hours again fit for starting. 
Lovely evening, and pushed on to Castleton. Made good 
dinner at inn, and relieved my good landlady, who, it 
seems, had been much alarmed at my disappearance." 

But the chief object of his expedition had not yet 
been accomplished, for Geddes had not been reached. 
Thither he proceeds on foot via Tomintoul and Grantown. 
In the midst of rain and storm, drenched to the skin, yet 
singing lustily, and " in ecstasies, striding forward like a 
hero, feeling gusts of poetic thought and sentiment," he 
reached the Spey. " I declare it seemed to know me ! 
What a monarch it looked, rolling dark and majestic, 
with the inspiration of the Highlands in its flow ; not 
even the great Ehine so inspires me!" 

" Grantown, June 28. — How quaint my feeling last 
evening after crossing the Spey, and now to think of my 
being so near Geddes. I am in a state of high and thrill- 
ing excitement ; and (partly perhaps owing to the peat 
fire), scarcely closed an eye last night, but lay pleasantly 
awake thinking Geddes, Geddes, Geddes ! Eose early — 
day promising. Trode with peculiar feelings the first 
seven or eight miles, until at length my own familiar 
objects hove in sight — the knock of Brae Moray, the dis- 
tant sea, the blue hills of Boss and Sutherland. At 
Dava I turned off to Lochindorb, about two miles west- 
ward. On the way two gigfuls of fishers passed me, 
whom I did not recognise ; but who, I feared, would 
recognise me. I reached the loch, and there it lay as of 
old, when, years ago, and I made an expedition to 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



155 



it. A goat-herd by the side, and his wife, invited me to 
partake of some goat's milk, which I accepted, with some 
cakes. I then crossed a gentle hill, and on reaching the 
summit sat down to weep, to rnuse, to drink the specta- 
cle. The panorama of the sea. the Cromarty Bay, the 
Sutherland hills, arid nearer Dulsie, the Findhorn, the 
Black Wood, and numberless other landmarks, brought 
back other days with an intensity almost painful. I can 
say no more of what passed through my mind in review- 
ing the chain of years : but. of course, my father's death 
and grave were uppermost in my thoughts, and tinged 
the whole with sadness. I descended the oft traversed 
route to Dulsie Bridge, and rested an hour in a shady 
spot, reading some chapters as well as musing. There 
lay the black pools, as motionless and as solemn as ever 
— all unchanged. I recalled rive years ago, when, fresh 
from Cambridge, and just embarked on my studies for the 
Free Church, I opened a quartette of years, perhaps the 
happiest of my life hitherto. Here I came with a peace- 
fill domestic party, and how much quiet bliss — how much 
holy society and how many pious epochs of my life have 
since occurred ! Alas ! too, how much yielding to the en- 
chantments of the world — I do not mean to a heinous ex- 
tent, but in subtle forms, to which now I fain would be a 
stranger. At three left Dulsie, and took road to Chinas. 
The thoughts and sights soon became intoxicating, and I 
forgot all fatigue. A short way beyond Chinas I made 
bold to cross the morass for the Black Wood, to avoid 
some riders who perhaps might have recognised me. I 
emerged just where the road turns down to the Black 
Mill. Here some women were working ; but I turned 
my head, to then chagrin, and passed them. I soon took 
the low wood, and wound my way gradually round for 



156 



MEMORIALS OF 



the edge of the old Black Wood. I gained it, and followed 
the well-known path, fragrant of a thousand memories — 
passed some woodmen unobserved, and at last reached the 
hill of Urchany. Just at Price's. Here I was, indeed, 
familiar with the passes, when at early dawn I so often stood 
with James, Wisheart, and others, stalking roe. The day 
was lovely, but very hot. The smell of the larch luxurious, 
the hum of the bee, the far-off cries as of old, the baying 
of collies. I strode on among wood, intending to strike 
down to Castle Findlas ; but inadvertently I walked on to 
the trunk road of the hill, and descended on Donald Bowie's 
bridge. I then retraced my way up the glen to Castle 
Findlas ; the solitude was a luxury, but oh ! an agonizing 
one. The 4 days that are no more/ how often trode at 
eve and all hours, and with what various companies ! but 
ever with that house, and its rich domestic pleasures, its 
serene repose, its substantial cheer, looming as the bourne. 
I sat long at Castle Findlas, plucked a sprig of heather 
as a relic, and then, it being now about six o'clock, made 
for the top of the hill. The pensiveness, if not the sad- 
ness of evening had stolen on when I reached it ; and so, 
though all was clear, all looked melancholy. I gazed 
around, and around, and around, upon the glorious scene, 
and then, ere I left, took out my note -book and wrote off 
as follows : — 1 My heart is full ; I have been for hours 
traversing the old familiar walks upon the hills, convers- 
ing with the dead. God, I bless Thee for the past ; sad, 
sad as is now its retrospect, from the removal of one who 
gave unity to the whole ! May the future be devoted to 
Thee ; and may I learn to cherish and value her who still 
remains to me, as I ought, remembering that, in human 
probability, I shall one day look back on her too as no 
more. My heart is like to burst. how lonely do I feel 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



157 



on earth ; but on Thee, my Father in heaven, through 
Thy dear Son. will I pillow my head ! 

" 1 The sea is like a mirror ; but as if mirroring sadness. 
Cromarty Bay. Nairn, the sand hills, the yellow broom on 
the Forres Moor, Brodie, Forres Tower are all most visible. 
The tall larches — my father's pride, make moan around 
me. Night is closing in, and I go now to visit my 
father's grave. May it be unobserved. — Seat on top 
of Urchany Hill, Wednesday evening, seven o'clock. — 
June 28, 1848/ 

" I did go, crossing the wood behind Sandy Milne's, with 
much trepidation, lest I should be recognised. I tied a 
wide handkerchief across my mouth. On reaching the 
road behind the forester's, made eastward for Clerk's, 
then turned up by dyke into field but one removed from 
G-eddes, hurried across it unmet, and climbed gate into 
burial-ground — there I knelt by grave, and lingered some 
time ; finally, jumped gate again, quaking, and boldly 
made for Macarthur's. His daughter, I think, passed 
churchyard just as I was leaving it, and I hid behind a 
tombstone. She afterwards paused long below her 
house, as if to see who it was ; I also saw her father re- 
turning from Baith, and so, like a wounded deer, I made 
a rapid circuit by hill above reservoir, passed Baith, 
descended into valley of Grantown road, and once more 
breathed freely." 

And so he parted from his early home, which he never 
saw more ! 

The last week of July was spent with his much-valued 
friend, Professor Ramsay (of Glasgow) and family, at 
their country residence in Perthshire. In spite of much 
suffering from bad health, this was a very happy week. 
After his return to Lasswade he addressed the following 



158 



MEMORIALS OF 



letter to Miss Kamsay, then a mere child, and which I 
select as a specimen of his letters to his young friends : — 

" Lasswade, July 26. 

u I, too, was very very dull on leaving you that morning, 
and have scarcely quite recovered my spirits yet. I amuse 
myself with thinking over the different days at Kanna- 
gulzean, and what we did ; — how we pasted the kite, and 
made it fly ; our walk to old Jenny's ; our expedition 
with Solomon to Strowan ; our gathering blackberries ; 
our games at night ; and lastly, how I saw you asleep, 
with Bushy at your feet, the night before I came away. 
I was very much too happy, and am suffering for it now ; 
you may think, then, how happy I was, since I could not 
get yourself, to get your letter to-day. I knew at once it 
was from Cassy ; and such a nice letter ! I am glad you 
haven't forgot my representative, and I wish I had some 
little robin to feed, and call it Cassy. My mother (whom 
I know you would love) thinks it very improper for me 
to receive a letter from you, but I hope to get another 
some day ; that is to say, if young Mr. Wishaw when he 
comes does not supplant me. Talking of my mother, do 
you know I am very envious of your mamma and your 
aunt, whom I do not think you can love half enough, 
much as you do love them. 

" I wonder how you would go to Banff? in a cart, I 
suppose, across the moor ; and I hope you enjoyed yourself 
as much as I did the day I walked with papa. I hope poor 
Nelly is better. Have you had any more games in the 
evening, or any moonlight walks ? Ah ! we never made 
out our tete-a-tete, but I hope we shall some evening yet. 
I am so glad you like the biographies. I am told papa is 
to be in town next week, and I shall try and get him to 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



159 



take you the sacred history of which I spoke to auntie, 
and which, I think, you would like ; my copy is quite 
ready for you, and it would be such a pleasure to me to 
think Cassy had read out of it. Mr. B. has a nice little 
nephew, whom I took to-day to see the prizes given at the 
Academy, and he was quite delighted. It was not so 
grand as your first of May, but still there were some very 
happy faces, and some nice-looking boys whom you know, 
— Lewis Campbell, and others. Tell cousins Mary and 
Maggie, not to be angry with me for sending them some 
trash in return for all their nice music. — Give my tender 
love to mamma, papa, and auntie, and believe me to 
be, &c. 

" Eemember me to old Betty. 13 



160 



MEMORIALS OF 



CHAPTEE VII. 

LEAVES SCOTLAND LETTER OF MR. A. BURN MURDOCH DIARIES IN 

GENEVA, 1848-49; AND LETTERS TO HIS MOTHER, REV. N. MACLEOD, 
REV. "WM. KER, MR. A. BURN MURDOCH, MR. ROBERT BALFOUR, REV. 
W. MADDEN. 

In May (1848), John Mackintosh says in his Diary: 
— " I have resolved, d.v., to spend next winter at Geneva, 
thinking it may enlarge my future usefulness, and add a 
year to my preparation for the ministry. I think I seek 
God's glory first in this, and I pray Him, if it will lead 
to this, to make my way plain before me, and if not, then 
to thwart my plan. I have as yet broached it to no one." 

As the summer and autumn advanced, the state of his 
health confirmed him in his resolution to go abroad. His 
way became still more clear, when he found that his 
friend, Mr. Burn Murdoch, was willing to accompany him. 

In writing to him, he said : " Should you make up 
your mind then to go, I trust we shall look for, and obtain 
God's blessing in making us profitable to one another, 
and in turning our labours to account in His service. 

" I have already hinted to you, what, I fear, you may 
have to put up with in me, in the way of physical morose - 
ness ; but perhaps your cheerfulness may communicate 
itself to me, or at all events, it will enable you to bear 
with me." 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



161 



I shall leave Mr. Burn Murdoch himself to tell the 
reader his early remembrances of John, and of their 
journey to Geneva, and residence there, as he has kindly 
told all this to me in a letter received from him. Before 
doing so, there are a few of John's Diaries previous to 
his departure, which may be recorded. 

Lasswade. — " Sunday, Sept 24. — Sweet thoughts on 
waking ; at ten got to room, and most unusual medita- 
tion. I thought I could trace God's hand in all my past 
suffering, and that it was designed, in love, to chasten and 
correct. Like Samuel, when God spoke to him, I have 
been long in recognising the voice as His. I now seem 
to see it distinctly ; and what is more, my mind was filled 
with adoring gratitude and wonder, that God should con- 
descend to discipline me, that His faithfulness and good- 
ness in it quite melted my heart. I prayed Him not so"* - 
much to remove the rod, as to bless it to the sanctifying 
of my soul. I have needed it much for purifying, and, for 
punishment, have suffered infinitely less than my iniqui- 
ties deserve. Of what self-seeking in my life am I con- 
scious, although professing to be only Christ's ; that is, I 
love the praise of man more than the praise of God, and 
am not willing to be counted a fool or a disagreeable per- 
son for Christ's sake, or to give up all and follow Him. 
Lord, give me grace to renounce self, and to live only 
for Thee and my neighbours' good. 

" Tuesday, Sept. 26. — Tol lol night, but woke jaded. 
Short walk before breakfast ; afterwards finished Gibbon. 
It took him twenty years to write, and as he says, linked 
year to year, and afforded much delight. It has taken me 
a year to read, linked month to month, and connected 
together their very varied, sometimes happy, often sad 
experience ; yet, in looking back, the sad is forgotten, 

L 



162 



MEMORIALS OF 



and the pleasing alone prevails with a deep tinge of 
pensiveness. I am surprised at my slowness in getting 
through, but, alas ! dire ill health has had much to do 

with it. . . . To West Port, and saw Mrs. , with , 

also old Each el; spoke and prayed at both houses; walked 
up Port, and many old and profitable thoughts of past 
years crowded my mind ; in which dear, great, good, Dr. 
Chalmers stood as centre. With all the suffering that 
has been since, 4 the thought of my past years in me doth 
breed perpetual benediction. 7 

44 Wednesday, Oct. 4. — Kose early, and after a brief 
feeling of awe, in the thought of leaving home, experi- 
enced much assurance of God's favour and presence, and, 
in particular, with that promise, as if from the Lord 
Himself : 4 Lo, I am with thee alway, even to the end of 
the world.' After devotions, dressed and packed ; much 
overcome at family prayers. ... At parting, solemn prayer 
with mother. Farewell to Kate, and departed much 
unmanned." 

His next meeting with his mother and sister was not in 
his own beloved Scotland. 

And now I shall permit Mr. Burn Murdoch to go on 
with his narrative : — 

44 From the circumstance of my brother being in the same 
class at the Edinburgh Academy, of which our dear friend 
was all along the head boy, I of course had known about 
him for years. It was not, however, till we met in the class- 
rooms of the New College that I had the pleasure of becom- 
ing personally acquainted with him. His appearance there 
was very striking. He always sat in the same place ; and 
I believe few, if any, failed to remark his animated intel- 
ligent countenance, his perfect gentlemanliness, and bis 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



163 



demeanour irreproachable alike by the gravest or the 
gayest, being quite untingecl with either the censorious- 
ness of the cynic or the boisterousness of the boy. Some 
pleasant strolls with John, and one or two other friends, 
invited like myself to visit him at Laurel Bank, and 
wander together on the shady banks of the Esk, recur to 
my memory as marking our last months in Scotland. 
But I hasten on to our journey. When we had agreed to 
go together to Geneva, he came for a day or two to 
Gartincaber in September 18-48, where, besides my bro- 
ther John, he met another old class-fellow, George Kin- 
near, now a clergyman in the Church of England, and 
my own and his friend, Bobert Watson. I well remember 
that the day after he arrived he asked me to retire with 
him, that together we might ask God's blessing on our 
proposed journey. And when we sailed from Granton 
Bier on the 4th of October, after Bobert Balfour and 
my brother William had bid us farewell, and when 
the forms of James Howden, and my own dear and now 
absent brother, James, who alone of our friends lingered 
on the point of the pier, were no longer visible, — again, 
at his request, retiring to our state -cabin, we sought the 
blessing and guidance of Him for whose glory our dear 
friend assuredly undertook the journey. We slept at 
Folkestone on the 10th ; it was a lovely moonlight night, 
and long we paced, almost silently, up and down the 
short jetty, gazing on the moon, the gently undulating 
silvered sea, and the shores of the dear land we were 
about to leave. His every look that night seemed to me 
an outgushing of the love of country, which in him was 
only second to the love of his mother and of his God. ?? 

I shall here interrupt Mr. Burn ^Murdoch's narrative by 



1G4 



MEMORIALS OF 



giving" an extract from a letter written by John Mackin- 
tosh that night to his mother :— 

" Folkestone, Oct. 10. 

" . . . I can say no more just now, than that your letter 
filled my heart with prayer and thanksgiving. I have 
felt, I may say, in a very peaceful frame of spirit towards 
God my Saviour, since I set out on my journeyings, and, 
as I told you, for some time previously ; God grant it 
may last and increase ! Who knows how far a mother's 
anxiety and prayers may have to do with it ? 

"It is a sublime night here, as I write ; the moon is 
shedding a wonderful effulgence on the great English 
Channel, which throbs beneath its beams as if it knew 
the mighty place it holds, and has ever held, to our 
beloved country, defending it from danger, and, as at 
this day, separating it from convulsions. The lights of 
France are visible ; the waves lash the chalk cliffs of old 
England with a solemnity of sound that is appropriate. 
I am in the neighbourhood of Caesar's landing-place, and 
the Conqueror's great Norman battle-field ; so that, you 
may suppose, my poetic temperament is worked up to the 
highest pitch. To-morrow morning we cross the channel 
for Paris, which we expect to reach by evening, and bid- 
ding farewell to you almost in the same breath with 
which I say good-night to my native land, — I remain," &c. 

" On the 17th we left Paris for Geneva, per Diligence, 
in the banquette of course ; it was a sixty hours' journey 
of almost uninterrupted travelling. It was only in the 
end seat of the banquette that one could sleep, and we 
took it alternately ; and it was not my kind companion's 
fault if I had not far more than my share. What a plea- 
sant journey it was ! . . . 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



165 



" Many of the students attending the Theological 
Academy of the Evangelical Society at Geneva come 
from a distance — from France, from the Waldensian val- 
leys, from Belgium, and from French Canada. They are 
not, generally speaking, of the rich of the earth, and 
most of them find it convenient to live in boarding-houses, 
almost confined to themselves, where the style of living 
is simple, and the expense moderate. John at once re- 
solved to take up his abode in one of these. His great 
object in going to Geneva had been to obtain a thorough 
knowledge of French, a good general view of French 
literature, and a familiar acquaintance with the theolo- 
gical students and the theological teaching. It was 
among students that these ends could be best attained ; 
and accordingly, we very soon found ourselves inmates of 
a students' boarding-house — a pretty, irregular building, 
with its garden, vine-covered promenade, adjoining field, 
and artificial mound, up which a spiral walk led through 
thick young fir-trees to a favourite seat on the top. It 
was pleasantly situated, in the suburb of Champel, some 
half a mile west of Geneva, and nearest that point of the 
fortifications where a suspension foot-bridge, thrown across 
the moat, gives access to the city. Close to this little 
bridge is the Oratoire, where the classes in connexion with 
the Evangelical Society meet. Our boarding-house was 
presided over by M. and Mine. Loup, excellent people ; and 
there were fully a dozen of students besides ourselves. It 
was a great inducement to go to M. Loup's, that we found 
there a dear friend, William Ker, now minister of the 
Free Church in Deskford, who had arrived just before us, 
with the intention of spending some months at Geneva. 
Indeed, our house was quite full, and M. Loup put him- 
self considerably about in order to accommodate us. We 



166 



MEMORIALS OF 



had all separate bedrooms, with fireplaces or stoves, 
which had to serve also for study and sitting-room ; but 
we met at meals in a common dining-room. We break- 
fasted at seven (in summer still earlier), dined at one, and 
had tea, which in Switzerland is generally a somewhat 
more solid meal than with ns, at seven. The distinguish- 
ing feature in John's character was, I think, conscien- 
tiousness ; and hence his ordinary daily life was cha- 
racterized by extreme regularity. One was sometimes 
tempted to wish that he would follow more unthinkingly 
the fresh impulse of feeling in little matters ; but it was 
a wish arising probably from a less vivid and constant 
realization than his, of the presence of Him who is in- 
visible. His blamelessness of life deeply impressed the 
students, from some of whom I have had letters since his 
death, showing that, after the interval of many years, 
they still retain a most affectionate remembrance of him. 
Being away from home, I have not these by me. One is 
from a most amiable fellow-student, M. Ambresin, now 
pastor at Thiat, in the Department of Haute Yienne ; an- 
other from an equally kind-hearted friend, M. Harmegnies, 
now a pastor in Belgium ; another from Italy. After our 
early breakfast we three met for a sort of family-worship 
in English ; then John shut himself up for study till 
dinner-time. After dinner we walked, and he almost 
always found his way to the reading-room in the after- 
noon, where we saw the English papers, and news of 
home. He very generally walked with one of the stu- 
dents, that he might have more intercourse with them, and 
might be compelled to speak French, and this, I am sure, 
from the home-feelings that creep over one at such a time, 
must have cost him no small self-denial. As to Ker 
and myself, wandering up the shady banks of the yellow 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



167 



Arve, and seeking for the first flowers of spring, we very 
unscrupulously made the woods ring with our mother 
tongue. After Ker left us for home, in the middle of 
March, John and I had our daily walk oftener together ; 
but I was generally requested to speak French. Both in 
the forenoon and afternoon, we occasionally attended the 
theological lectures at the Oratoire, not indeed with 
great regularity — we had had much lecture- attending be- 
fore — but often enough to understand the system pursued ; 
less frequently at the excellent theological lectures of 
Gaussen, the Church history of Merle, and the Hebrew of 
La Harpe. as these differed little from our own in Soot- 
land ; very often at the admirable but occasional lectures 
of Pilet, on preaching and sermon- writing, and the fresh 
and interesting though somewhat Germanized exegesis of 
Scherer — both subjects hitherto comparatively neglected 
in our own theological schools. 

" M. Loup had prayers in the evening in the public 
dining-room, where we generally, however, had but a 
small attendance. There were almost always, however, 
at least two or three students, an excellent old watch- 
maker. Jaeottet, since gone to his rest* v our only non- 
student housemate), and, to do them justice, 1 les trois 
Eeossais,' when they happened to be at home. Some- 
times M. Loup conducted our devotions himself, pouring 
forth his supplications with a faith, a fervour, and, above 
all, a volubility unexampled but among French Chris- 
tians. Very often his place was taken by La Fleur. one 
of our students, who. with his countryman Cyr. were 
regular attendants. La Fieur was a French Canadian 
of good talents and blameless life, greatly beloved and 
respected by us all— by none more than by John. It was 
a great privilege to join in his calm and solemn prayers. 



168 



MEMORIALS OF 



He is now at the Mission de la Grande Ligne, St. John's, 
Canada, where, I doubt not, he is about his Master's 
business. When speaking of the students, I might name 
them all as showing unvarying kindness to the English 
strangers. The steady Ledune, the musical Chatelanat, 
the jovial Delhorbe, the half-English Auberjonois, Eoux, 
Lecocq, even the impetuous and papisticaily - disposed 
arguer, Ferrette, all were kind to us. The students had 
a prayer-meeting at the Oratoire, in which John occa- 
sionally took a part, so soon as he had sufficiently 
mastered the language. He also attempted a little in the 
way of home-mission work, but he did not speak of it 
even to me. I only gathered that he found his nationality 
an insurmountable barrier, as he was importuned for tem- 
poral aid whenever he was perceived to be an English- 
man. 

" I have spoken of our evenings at the 4 Pension Loup.' 
Bat, indeed, the 4 Trois Ecossais' — thanks to the kind 
hospitality of friends — were under little necessity of spend- 
ing evenings at home. Pleasant unceremonious evening- 
parties are quite a feature of Genevese life, and especially 
in the circle of our most intimate acquaintance, which 
was not thoroughly English, nor yet thoroughly French ; 
but one in which the two elements, by intermarriage or 
otherwise, were very much blended. The venerable oc- 
cupant of the Pre-Beni is, as everybody knows, the hospes 
of all our nation, and many an English chat had we 
under his roof. Mr. Stevenson, though within an ace 
of being a thorough Frenchman, was English still, and 
his wife not English merely, but Scotch, and a Sinclair ; 
and a Scotch welcome we invariably received from them. 
Count St. George is half-English, and his wife is English ; 
but it was not nationality, but the large-heartedness of 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



169 



Christian love that dictated their unvarying kindness to 
ns. Madame Scherer, too, is our countrywoman, and 
Professor Scherer is well acquainted with our language 
and literature. They had one evening in the week, when 
any of the students who pleased were welcomed, and 
many availed themselves of it ; but we strangers and 
foreigners were far more constant guests, and we shall 
never forget the unwearied kindness which made 1 Les 
Grottes ' to us a second home. Pleasant evenings, too, 
we passed with the excellent Professor Gaussen, with Dr. 
Merle, the Perrots, and several others, which relieved the 
monotony of student-life, and gave us an insight into a 
very pleasant and Christian society. 

" One feature in our Geneva life I must not omit ; 
John's health was not very vigorous, and an uninterrupted 
course of sedentary life always induced great torpidity of 
the system. To throw aside books, and dash into the 
country, was the only remedy. You know his intense 
enjoyment of nature, and can therefore understand with 
what delight he started on such an expedition, when his 
health rendered it imperative. And here, indeed, I could 
let my pen run on. Fancy us three, with a French 
friend (whom we nearly killed by overwalking), on an 
intensely cold and brilliant day in the end of December, 
following the course of the Ehone for some twenty miles, 
spending the long evening in pleasant chat round the 
stove of the most primitive of French wayside inns ; and 
hailing the sunrise among the rocks and icicles that sur- 
rounded the 1 Perte du Rhone.' Fancy us trudging along 
to Chamonix in the middle of February, astonishing 
the snow-bound inmates of the Hotel de la Couronne, 
and crossing the Tete Xoire to Martigny, over ten to 
fifteen feet of snow, in the highest spirits, and with as 



170 



MEMORIALS OF 



much, ease as in summer. To console ourselves for the 
loss of Ker, John and I spent the last days of March 
in accompanying Professor Scherer in a delightful walk 
round the Lake of Geneva, beginning with the south side. 
We had, indeed, our little hardships. We started in the 
gloom of a snow-shower ; but spring was already tri- 
umphant, and never shall we forget these meadows and 
grassy slopes between Evian and St. Gingolph, covered 
with cowslips, violets, and many-coloured patches of the 
wild crocus ; that sunny churchyard of Montreux, and the 
quiet grave of the great, the good, the lovely, Alexandre 
Vinet. I might speak, too, of summer trips to Annecy, and 
Aix les Bains, with its fairy Lac de Bourget, where John 
and I, alone among strangers, felt, with a vague and unde- 
fined delight, the spirit of a new and more southern climate 
breathing in all that we saw around us ; but I shall deny 
myself the pleasure of saying anything more about these 
most delightful hours. It was on these occasions that I 
most enjoyed his society; and what struck me most was 
his intense delight in the beautiful works of God, and his 
ever perceptible gratitude to Him who gave him so much 
to enjoy. One very noticeable trait in his character was 
his power of entirely forgetting any accompanying annoy- 
ances or hardships, and admiring and enjoying with all 
his heart. He would express his delight verbally, or in a 
letter, at the scenes he was beholding, in the most glowing 
terms ; and there was not a tinge of sadness to lead you 
to suspect that his bodily health was perhaps such as, in 
the case of most men, would have thrown a dark gloom 
over the most glorious landscape. Indeed, this power of 
ignoring personal sorrow, and therefore bearing it alone, 
without asking any sympathy from his friends, amounted, 
in his case, as concerned his health, to a misfortune, if not 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



171 



a fault : if a fault, certainly a rare and dignified one. 
Well do I remember a day in June, when, after a long 
and fatiguing Diligence journey, we started on foot, with 
heavy knapsacks, from Albertville, in the valley of the 
Isere, intending to find our way, as best we could, across 
mountain roads to Chamonix. We had many miles of a 
long straight road, white, and inches deep of dry burning 
dust ; the sun was blazing in fierce noon-clay splendour. 
Our lips were far too parched to admit of conversation, 
and we tramped slowly along on opposite sides of the 
way, where there was least dust. It was decidedly a 
case in which a sea-breeze-loving John Bull might law- 
fully grumble a little, and with that intention I turned 
to my companion ; but, alas ! for sympathy, his eye was 
fixed on a far-stretching and splendidly-wooded hillside, 
which rose on our left : here and there among the high, 
bare, rocky ridges which towered beyond, was perched a 
chateau — the very home of romance ; it was evident that 
the toils of the way, the fury of the sun were forgotten ; 
his eye expressed a quiet delight, and a slow, uncon- 
sciously murmured 4 beautiful ! ' told the grumbler that 
he must grumble alone. 

" One word about the more peculiarly religious aspect 
of our life at Geneva. This alone makes the retrospect 
even joyful ; other things may have passed away for ever. 
The 4 new earth' may perhaps have no more its Lac de 
Bourget, its Savoy, its Alps (though even these are im- 
mortalized, at least in memory) ; but it is our delight to 
think that our Geneva ties were of the most enduring 
kind. The great bulk of those who showed us kindness 
were followers, and many of them most exemplary followers 
of the Lord Jesus. It was a great privilege to hear such 
admirable sermons as those of M. Pilet at the Oratoire, 



172 



MEMORIALS OF 



to be present at the unique Catechisme of Gaussen, to re- 
ceive the affectionate exhortations of the venerable Malan. 
It was a great privilege, the constantly recurring oppor- 
tunities we had of meeting round the table of the Lord, 
and commemorating His death, in a language and with 
a form that showed us to be of one family with the 
Cevenols and the Camisards. It was, perhaps, a greater 
privilege still to see before us many men, some of them 
men of rank and wealth and leisure, devoting them- 
selves, with all the ardour of men of business, to the 
advancement of Christ's kingdom, and deserving a place 
beside the honoured worthies of our own Clapham sect. 
I believe that the effect, in a religious point of view, pro- 
duced on John and on all of us, was a feeling of admiration 
for the greater joyfulness manifested by these French 
Christians. We thought this arose, in part, from the 
prominent place they gave in their thoughts to the person 
of the Saviour ; and, I believe, we found it very advan- 
tageous to ourselves, to regard personal Christianity more 
as a cleaving of soul to a living loving Saviour, than a 
belief of certain truths. That the accent has been laid 
too much on the latter view in our country, was, I think, 
felt by our dear friend ; and, had he lived, he would have 
seen many signs in our sermons and religious literature 
that this was becoming generally felt, acknowledged, and 
amended. 

" This letter is already too long, and I must hasten to 
a close. Though written hurriedly, unmethodically, and 
amid a press of duties, I hope it may be possible to 
gather from it some idea of John's life at Geneva. I 
have not spoken of the feelings cherished towards him by 
our kind Geneva friends. They were, I know, feelings of 
unmingled respect and love. 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



173 



" The 30th of July was the last day we spent together. 
Circumstances obliged me to return home : his course 
was towards Italy. It was a day of sorrow to both. We 
were in Lausanne. We sat gazing sadly on the lake, 
beyond which the Saleve, the Cote d'Or, and the moun- 
tains near the 'Perte du Rhone, 1 loomed solemnly through 
a hazy atmosphere. As the parting hour approached, we 
read a portion of Scripture and prayed together. The 
darkness concealed our tears ; and midnight tolled so- 
lemnly as the Diligence hurried me away towards Besan- 
9011, with my eyes fixed, for the last time, on the form of 
John Mackintosh. 

" That 30th day of July he wrote in my album the 
following lines : — 

' Adieu ! — to God — what words can else express 

The parting, and the prayer that soars to heaven, 
When two fond hearts, long link'd in tenderness, 

By the decree of fate at length are riven. 

Yet happy they to whom the hope is given 
To meet again upon this travailing earth, 
And side by side inaugurate the birth 

Of that bright age for which our sires have striven. 
Adieu ! — to God — if not below, above ! 
While even here, how wide soe'er we roam, 
High in an atmosphere of peace and love, 
Our souls may meet in God — the wanderers home. 

11 4 If not below, above ! 1 My heart echoes that prayer. 
The Lord enable me to follow him in his upward course. 
Hitherto, alas ! at the veiy best, it has been non passibus 
cequis" 

I will now let him tell his own tale of his life at 
Geneva by extracts from his Diaries and Letters, during 
the nine months in which he resided there, from the end 
of October 1848 till the end of July 1849. 



174 



MEMORIALS OF 



" Oct. 29. — I desire to walk with God, to live en- 
tirely to Christ, and, if it be His precious will, to be a 
sweet savour of Him to all around, particularly my fellow 
students. . . . The desire of my heart is after holiness, and 
an entire dedication and surrender of myself to Christ. 

" Wednesday, Nov. 8. — Evening, drank tea with Mr. 
Darby, accompanied by Ker ; long discussion on his views; 
feel very strong on the subject of the ministry, as of apo- 
stolic appointment, and most necessary : yet harmonize 
more with him than with High Churchmen and system- 
mongers of any church. After tea he gave us his views 
on prophecy— very interesting ; and many of them, I have 
no doubt, just. I consulted him on his views of the per- 
son of Christ, and the nature of his intercourse with the 
Lord, to which he replied in a manner very edifying, and 
in strict harmony with what, I trust, the Lord has of late 
been teaching me by His Spirit. We prayed before 
parting. Home by half-past ten, greatly pleased with 
evening. 

" Thursday, Nov. 9. — Holiday as usual. Eead, nine 
to twelve, Monsell on Plymouthism, and greatly inter- 
ested in the questions it opens up. I think his views of 
the institution of the ministry are quite wrong, but de- 
sire to sift them more thoroughly. 

" Sunday, Nov. 12. — Another Sunday ; time rolls on ! 
At nine to Oratoire ; M. Pilet on Forgiving our Neigh- 
bour, &c. Walked to warm myself till twelve, read to 
one, Dr. Malan's at two; at half- past three, B. M., Ker, 
and I had nice prayer-meeting in B. M.'s room. Began 
Timothy then, and interesting conversation ; took sacra- 
ment at six, at Dr. Malan's, at his request, and enjoyed 
it much ; home by half-past seven. Began Life of Felix 
Neff ; it seems he died in this house, in B. M.'s room. 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



175 



" Lord, give me Thy Holy Spirit, and amend my 
heart, and lead me in all my ways ! May I live only for 
Thee, recognise Thy love and faithfulness in all my cir- 
cumstances, live by faith and hope ; and forasmuch as the 
time is short, and there are many heavenly witnesses of 
my course, may I press forward, under the Spirit's lead- 
ing, for the prize of God's high calling in Christ. Lord, 
show me my work, and give me grace to execute it ; I 
have ceased to choose it for myself. Work in me and by 
me. 

" Monday, Nov. 13. — At seven, to private meeting of 
Plymouth Brethren in Isle. The topics rather rambling ; 
yet instructive on that of the Holy Spirit's agency in be- 
liever : several spoke besides Mr. Darby. . . . The Brethren 
seem to carry the doctrine to a length to which I dare 
not follow them. It is a blessed doctrine that of the 
Spirit's individual and hourly guidance ; but to be used 
with much humility and discretion. The Christian is to 
seek it earnestly, and to walk in the general faith of it ; 
but so many are the corruptions still within him, that he 
should at no time confidently assert that the Spirit moves 
him ; but knowing the treachery of his heart, cast ever a 
humble upward eye — test the fact by the result — imput- 
ing all that is plainly good to the operations of the good 
Spirit, and mourning over the error as his own. The 
more tremblingly we walk in this way, the less likely 
will we be to act of ourselves, and consequently the safer 
and holier will be our conduct. While the one is pre- 
sumption, considering the existence of the old man, still 
within us ; the other does not imply want of faith in 
God mingled with a holy jealousy and fear of ourselves. 

" They then got off the unity of the Church (of which 
they wished to speak), upon the parable of the Ten Vir- 



176 



MEMORIALS OF 



gins, in relation to Christ's coming, and the situation of 
His Church. This seems a very favourite parable as illus- 
trating their views ; but I was not much arrested by any 
thing I heard. 

" I could not but be sad at the general strain of the 
meeting, groping, one and all, in Scripture, often upon 
important points, and speaking very much at random, 
without any solid conclusions. How different, thought I, 
from a prayer-union in Scotland, where the facts are 
admitted — thanks to the early training of the people — and 
all that remains (certainly not the least important part), 
is to realize them to edification. Hence there is no con- 
tradiction ; no looking for a supernatural enlightenment, 
or for what is only to be got in conjunction with much 
patient study and search in the closet ; nor a looking for 
what may be got suddenly on such an occasion as when two 
or three are met together, a 4 felt power ' (as it is called), 
or 'a feeling of the power of the truth.' Home by ten. 

" Wednesday, Nov. 22. — Kead sermon by A. Monod, 
very eloquent ; I should say English eloquence. Fore- 
noon, full of longings for quickening and unity of Chris- 
tians and churches everywhere, by the outpouring of the 
blessed Spirit. This doctrine, that we live under the 
economy of the Spirit, par excellence, is forcing itself 
more upon me ; yet the coming of Christ is necessary, 
and greatly desired, not only by the church, but by the 
Spirit Himself, who is now the church's guide and pro- 
perty. 4 The Spirit and the Bride say, Come.' 

" Saturday, Dec. 2. — To-night, a converted Eoman 
Catholic, but very young Protestant, whose tenets given 
out at table shocked me some days ago, overtook me 
after tea, and showed disposition to converse quietly and 
modestly, as feeling he had much to learn. my God, 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



177 



open tip a path for doing good, and give me grace and 
wisdom, for my blessed Lord's sake I" 

" Sunday, Dec. 17. — To-day the collection for missions 
is being made in Scotland. My heart overflowed with 
earnestness, that God would bless those missions, and put 
it into the heart of His people and servants to come 
nobly forward to their aid. I could not think of the 
subject without weeping tears of joy at what God has 
done for us, for the missions, and for my own poor soul ; 
tears of shame at our stinted gratitude and efforts for 
Him, at my own lukewarmness hitherto. Lord, let 
Thy Spirit be within me as a burning fire, as a live coal, 
filling me with love, zeal, and devotion to Thee. May 
I henceforth recognise this one end in life — Christ — and 
to make known His name among my fellow- creatures, 
and all around me. 

" Sunday, Dec. 31. — Meditated on past year, and en- 
deavoured to confess and feel humbled for my sins, above 
all, my selfishness in so often seeking my own ends and 
not Christ's. I bless God for His faithfulness, as well 
as His rich goodness throughout this year ; and now I 
desire to cast myself upon Him for that on which I am 
about to enter. I desire to live wholly to His glory, and 
to make great progress in His love, in self-denial, in the 
love of my neighbour, in humility, faith, perseverance, 
and devotedness. I feel, that except God undertake for 
me, I must end where I began, and have again to review 
a year of resolutions, falls, and endeavours at repentance. 
But, God ! Thy grace is omnipotent and all-sufficient. 
4 Thy Spirit is good ; lead me into the land of uprightness.' 
Oh ! if I be indeed Thy servant and a chosen vessel for 
bearing Thy name, fit me, I pray Thee ; employ me, I 
pray Thee ; set Thy stamp and likeness upon me, and 

M 



178 



MEMORIALS OF 



the praise shall be Thine. May every faculty of body, 
mind, and spirit, every moment, and every possession, be 
entirely consecrated to Thee, and to Thy service. May 
Thy peace dwell in my heart. May I be as a little child, 
obeying Thine eye, and having the habitual consciousness 
that I am pleasing God. Lord, bless my dear family and 
friends, and make me more faithful and useful to them 
than in time past. Bless also those among whom I am 
now placed.' 7 

TO HIS MOTHER. 

" November 18. 

" My darling Mother, — I am in receipt of both your 
last letters ; and if you could but know the joy they gave 
me, you would not think your time in writing them mis- 
spent. The last solemnized me very much. First to 
hear that another of those I so lately visited had been 
called away ; next to hear that cholera was so near you, 
and in such an alarming degree. How often we have 
walked by Kobert Paterson's without thinking such a 
mortality was so nigh. But I have found great comfort 
in God, our adorable Father and Saviour, committing you 
into His hands, as one near me and near you, who by 
His omnipresence strides over the great distance between 
us, and, as it were, brings us close to one another. In a 
moment my thoughts, my prayer to Him, may be con- 
veyed to you in the way of blessing. Precious doctrine, 
precious faith ! Oh, then, let us live near each other, in 
each other's company, by living near the throne ! He is 
not a far-off God, but one who loves that we should 
nestle beneath His wings in Jesus Christ. How often 
I picture you in your various rounds, and how happy I 
am that from last winter's experience I know all your 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



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ways. God bless you, enrich you, and comfort you 
in them all. It interests me exceedingly to hear of the 
poor and others around. Pray remember me expressly 
to my friends Miss M'Leod, the Petleys, the Manse, poor 
Ellen, Eobert, the girl Ker, Old Jean, and poor Mrs. 
Kuthyen, with others. Also very particularly to Mr. and 
Mrs. Pitcairn, to the former of whom I shall one day 
write. For myself, goodness and mercy continue to 
follow me." 

TO THE SAME. 

" December 19. 

" . . . Many thanks for your two letters. They have 
afforded me the usual satisfaction, and I have perused 
them the usual number of times. ... I have little news 
for you. We have had some very remarkable fogs for 
nearly a fortnight ; but they do not affect me as the 
Lasswade ones used to do, though they are very dense 
and cheerless. One clay last week, I made a party to 
climb the Mount Saleve, and after reaching a little village 
a considerable height, we all at once emerged from the 
mist. The sun was shining brightly and powerfully from 
an unclouded sky. The long line of the Jura summits 
overtopped the mist. Everything above rejoiced ; but 
below there lay the heavy rolling sea, a few hill-tops like 
islands appearing out of it, but all else buried beneath 
— Geneva with its thousands of people, and its traffic, 
rivers, lake, steamboats. It gave me an idea of Her- 
culaneum, with mist for lava, and consequently life for 
death. The effect of the church bells ringing below was 
very curious." . . . 

TO THE SAME. 

" December 26. 

" I await with trembling intarest the result of last Sun- 



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day's collection for India Missions. In my view, it was 
the most critical day for the Free Church since 1843, and 
I trust to hear of something overwhelming to indicate 
that we consider missions as equally important with home 
efforts. I should like to hear that from £20 to 40,000 
had been put into the plate. I am confident the decline 
of the Sustentation Fund is due to our neglect of missions, 
and that the constant cry of home is short-sighted policy. 
It makes one's heart bleed to read those noble accounts 
from India, to hear of the wide door opened, and then to 
talk of curtailing the missions. I do not know if it be 
love to Christ ; but I have not been so moved for years 
as in interceding last Sunday for this great cause ; and 
oh ! I trust that my spirit tolcl the travail of the Church 
at home, as a shell is said, if applied to the ear, to tell 
the state of the ocean, however distant, from which it 
came." 

TO REV. N. MACLEOD. 

" November 26. 

" My beloved Norman, — I shall not apologize for 
having been so long in writing ; for you know well you 
have been in my daily thoughts and prayers, as I have 
been in yours. "lis not easy to write here ; the hours 
of lecture, which I scrupulously attend, are so numerous, 
&c. &c. . . . Norman, there is much more life here ; and I 
know if you were here, you would be delighted — shall I 
say enthusiased — with not a few things that are going on. 

"First, as to the Evangelical Society of Geneva, you 
know their three grand departments are— colporteurs; mis- 
sionaries in France ; and the theological school, for train- 
ing up ministers to labour in the French countries of the 
Continent, and elsewhere. The two former schemes have 
been greatly and signally blessed, so as, indeed, to stamp 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



181 



mockery — from the simplicity of the means employed, 
but employed in faith — on many of our petrified ministries. 
The funds of the Society received a severe shock last 
summer, which obliged them to prepare all their agents 
for the possibility of being discharged ; and nothing can 
exceed the beauty, simplicity, and Christian faith of the 
replies which they received to their circulars. As it is. 
although many churches and individuals came to their 
aid. they have been obliged greatly to reduce their staff: 
but I trust the Lord only permits it for a season, to try 
their faith. Do the people of Scotland help them as they 
ought ? They disclaim all identification with parties, 
and very properly ; for the very fact of their being a 
Society, and not a Church, is, that they may form a 
vehicle, like the Bible Society and others, for the efforts 
of all Christians in this field of simple evangelization. 
Xext, the theological school. It is admirably supplied ; 
the course is very complete. They have lectures on In- 
troduction to the Old and Xew Testaments, Church his- 
tory, exegetic, apologetic, polemic, systematic, symbolic, 
homiletic, and pastoral theology. The professors are five 
in number — D'Aubigne, Gaussen, Pilet. La Harpe. and 
Scherer : the last comparatively a young man. of great 
parts and great promise, and a great admirer of Arnold. 

** Each professor lectures on various subjects, and thus 
the course is overtaken. Perhaps the same remark ap- 
plies to theirs, as to most lectures — that what they gay 
would be better learned from books ; but this is very 
much matter of opinion. Scherer's lectures are un- 
doubtedly admirable, and not to be otherwise replaced. 
He has been lecturing on Catholicism, and goes very 
profoundly into principles, which he treats with much 
originality, alluding, in his way, to the leading work- of 



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recent times on the subject — as Mohler's in Germany, and 
Newman's in England. He has that air of pensive 
thought, which you find in Pascal, saved from gloom by 
his vigorous realization of the person of Christ, as the 
true home for the lonely heart — a fact, alas ! in our 
Christianity, which comes in often at the very circum- 
ference, if it finds a place in it at all. Nay, but it must 
be the very centre starting-point of our faith ; and if we 
miss it in our system, I can well understand a vigorous 
and thirsty spirit like Newman's, wandering on from one 
dogma to another, and still unsatisfied. But to return 
from this digression. The students, numbering about 
thirty, are drawn from all parts of the French-speaking 
world, including Canada ; and truly, 1 know not where 
else they could go at present for a sound theological 
training ; so that this department of the Society is amply 
justified by its necessity. The course of study in the 
hall is three years ; and each session consists of nine 
months. There is one very useful branch of the training 
which I ought to mention. It is that of practical homi- 
letics, conducted once a week by Pilet, the preacher to the 
Oratoire. The student brings his plan of a sermon ; the 
other students then criticize, and perhaps suggest a bet- 
ter ; and lastly, the professor points out the errors, and 
gives his own idea. He is a most remarkable preacher 
himself, and therefore well able to give advice. D'Au- 
bigne's lectures, I may say, on the early Christian Church, 
are a good deal of the Mosheim cast ; for he cannot be 
dramatic among so many dry bones as the Fathers and 
Apologists ; but his piety and zeal for the extension of 
Christ's kingdom are so beautiful and ardent, that every 
day one is quickened, though it be but a few words. 
" I must now tell you of the attempt which has been 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



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made, and which I think has succeeded, to unite the 
Evangelical Churches here upon a wide but scriptural 
basis. Their articles are published ; suffice it to say, 
that in doctrine there are seventeen embracing the usual 
fundamental points, clearly and briefly stated. Then on 
the constitution, embracing government, worship, and 
discipline, there are twenty-one. It is here that they are 
most liberal. The government is, in the main, Presby- 
terian ; but they admit all varieties of form in worship, 
encourage the ministry of elders and the laity (a term 
not liked here) for edification, and admit even Baptists 
into their communion. Indeed, the two points I should 
be most disposed to question, are their practice in regard 
to the two sacraments. They hold infant baptism, but 
admit Baptists and churches ; and in regard to the Lord's 
Table, their article is as follows : — 1 UEglise, considerant 
la table de la Cene dressee par elle, non comme sa propre 
table mais comme celle du Seigneur, y accueille tous les 
membres de lafamille de Dieu. J Acting on this principle, 
any one may present himself, and no token or examina- 
tion is required. There are three things to be regarded 
in arriving at this union, which are well stated by D'Au- 
bigne, in last year's Eeport of the Evangelical Society. 
They are, 1st, That the spiritual must precede the ex- 
ternal ; otherwise we fall into the error of Komanism. 
2d, An absolute uniformity in rules, and other non- 
essentials, is not to be looked for ; it did not obtain even in 
apostolic times. 3d, The union must be gradual, and not 
forced ; otherwise heterogeneous elements will soon clash. 

u The ecclesiastical world here is much distracted by 
Plymouthism. The sect, through the labours of Mr. 
Darby, has multiplied greatly in this and the neighbour- 
ing countries ; — you know that they discard the ministry 



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altogether. A very prominent place is given to all the 
facts of Christ's work — accomplished, present, and to 
come. The present economy of the Holy Spirit is also 
powerfully realized, and is, I think, exaggerated. Mr. 
Darby is accused here of doing much evil, by causing 
schism ; but he has given an impulse to so many great 
doctrines, which all admit, and which, perhaps, but for 
his schism, would not have excited so much attention, 
that I can fancy the good to have preponderated over the 
bad. In addition to the great doctrines I have noticed 
above, no doubt every Christian ought to consider, more 
than is usual among us, his obligation to preach Christ 
by his life, and otherwise. 

" But I must have wearied you, dear Norman, with all 
this talk. You must write me soon ; won't you ? telling 
me, besides family matters, any subjects or views that have 
been of late occupying your own spirit. ... to be more 
instructed in that great mystery — God manifest in the 
flesh ! I cry out for this knowledge, which the Spirit can 
alone give me, and which I believe to contain a mine 
that is inexhaustible. I am not without hopes that the 
light is breaking upon me, and that my heart is in its 
love grasping a Person instead of being content with a 
mere set of well-regulated opinions — to which from our 
early education in religion we are so prone. God give 
you too, to advance in this knowledge, for its depths 
never can be reached. — Your very fondly attached, 

J. M." 

TO REV. W. MADDEN. 

" December 14. 

" My very dear Madden, — The memory of my visit 
to Eeading is still fragrant. Often do I picture to my- 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



185 



self your happy little home, and wish myself again its 
inmate. God grant we may yet have many meetings 
beneath each other's roof during our term of pilgrimage 
and service here below ! . . . I trust you are both well and 
happy, possessed of that peace which passeth all under- 
standing. I trust we are seeking to live more in the 
habitual presence of our blessed Lord, and in the com- 
munion of His gracious Spirit. It is want of faith that 
prevents us from hearing His voice ever in our ears, say- 
ing. * This is the way, walk thou in it, 7 and enjoying the 
consciousness that we are pleasing Him. Ineffable love 
and condescension, to admit us to such a privilege ! How 
humbling, how encouraging, how safe ! let us sit at His 
feet as children, and learn of Him, and have our hearts 
filled with His love. I send a kiss to dear baby. — Re- 
ceive my very tenderest affection, and believe me ever 
your loving friend, J. M." 

•• Monday, Jem, 9. 1849. — My birthday, aged twenty- 
seven. Lord, anew I desire to give myself to Thee. 
Despise me not, reject me not ; but take me as I am, and 
make me what Thou wouldst have me to be. Enable me 
to deny self, and to do Thy will continually in this year, 
and all the years of my life. Enable me to redeem the 
time : guide me in my preparations for the ministry, pre- 
serve me from all error, and lead me into all truth, for 
Christ my Redeemer's sake. Amen. 

" Forenoon, study ; walk with B. M. and K., afternoon. 
Dear fellows, they gave me birthday presents in the 
evening, which quite overcame me. God bless them ! 

" Wednesday, Jan. 31. — Evening, M. Scherer's. He 
spoke of Vinet — his tenderness of conscience and gentle- 
ness as a critic — his sensibility, often weeping as he read 



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MEMORIALS OF 



a fine passage, which he did with great power. Showed 
me some of his letters and MSS., written in very neat, 
small, accurate, philological hand, with many erasures and 
corrections. He often sent long list of such corrections 
afterwards, sometimes proposing mere change of word. 

" M. Scherer is about to publish critique of his moral 
and theological works and character. Showed me his 
note-book, with some fine thoughts, especially of Vinet's. 
Such as, short but pregnant character of Voltaire, &c. 
Also such expressions as this : La foi a sa raison, et la 
raison a sa foi. 

" Thursday, Feb. 22. — Started from Sailenches for Cha- 
mouni ; glorious road by Servoz, where had brown bread 
and cheese. All very silent from sublimity of mountains 
and glaciers. Sky harmoniously wild ; snow deep and 
sufficiently firm. Chamouni, in dark, by seven. Hotel 
de la Couronne ; capital dinner — bishop, and sent for 
Balmat ; gave him Professor Forbes' s note. Very nice 
man — long talk — he overjoyed to see us. 

" Friday, Feb. 23. — Charming beds, breakfast, and as 
I could not think of quitting Chamouni so soon, got leave 
of rest to go by Tete Noire. B. M. generously offered to 
accompany me. After breakfast looked at maps which 
Balmat gave us, at his cabinet, and then to source of 
Arveiron; day superb, north wind and glorious sky; route 
to Montanvert impassable. Some deep wading through 
snow to reach source, very very small. At two, Ker and 
Keid left. I went with them nearly to Les Ouches ; 
glorious walk. The Aiguille du Dru rising out of its 
forest of ice -pinnacles, and seen against the clear blue 
sky, was fine beyond description. At half-past four 
called on the cure of Chamouni, with B. M. ; friend of 
Professor Forbes ; very warm welcome. Wrote our names 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



187 



for him. I put after mine, Un qui aime le Seigneur, et 
tons ceux qui Vaiment. 

"Saturday, Feb. 24. — Breakfast, and started at a 
quarter-past eight with Balm at. Glorious day ; anniver- 
sary of last French Kevolution : what a contrast here ! 
Went by Val d'Argentiere, saw and crossed recent 
avalanche which had killed a woman ; passed vil- 
lages, ascended opposite glacier of Tour, by Les Montets. 
Snow deep, but hard ; beautiful descent to Valorsine, 
Aiguilles rouges, Buet, &c, beautiful. Tete Noire, valley 
superb ; what rock -colouring, what grandeur, what con- 
trasts ! I felt intoxicated. Lunch at Trient ; crossed 
col, pretty steep, and descended on Martigny ; high wund 
on Forclaz, at top of col. Saw Jungfrau and other 
grand Alps. Sion, and valley of Bhone, very picturesque 
— descent very slippery, at which I got on badly ; other 
two went like sledges ; passed Burg Martigny, and to 
Hotel de la Tour at five. Balmat, long chat — he very 
unwilling to take aught ; but paid him for three days, 
which he had to be forced to accept. 

" Lord, fill our hearts with gratitude for Thy many 
mercies, and grant that this excursion may strengthen us 
in body, and mind, and spirit, for Thy blessed service. 

" Friday, June 1. — Always memorable day, having 
been for many years associated with much pleasure. 
This day, in 1841, I quitted London with the Professor, 
en route for Continent ; my first visit. At this season, in 
1843, I visited Oxford. Last year I set off in my glorious 
and hallowed tour to Deeside, and afterwards Geddes. 
This morning rose at half-past five ; late enough, consider- 
ing what was before us. Called B. M., and packed knap- 
sack and bag ; breakfasted, said good-byes, and started by 
Diligence. My health is indifferent, confirmed cough, which 



188 



MEMORIALS OF 



reconciles me to a trip at this time. Enjoyed much the beau- 
tiful day and scene, spite of this low state of my mercury. 

" Thursday, June 7. — Called in middle of sound sleep, 
so half asleep all clay ; descended as others were finish- 
ing breakfast ; endeavoured to contribute to happiness of 
others, and never mind my own. After breakfast, with 
guide to La Flegere. Met Fete Dieu procession. Mont 
Blanc must have been familiar with such sights through 
Middle Ages onwards ; but not the less are they in terrible 
discord with the grandeur of nature's temple. Balmat 
accompanied me en route. Day lovely, pursued my way 
alone, meditating on past ; but somehow Chamouni has 
lost for me the glory and the dream it had eight years ago 
— health not very robust may have somewhat to do with 
this — botanized, meditated, sung. I remember as though 
it were yesterday, doing the very same thing in 1841. 

"Sunday, July 22. — My last Sunday here, d.v. 
Lord, anew I give myself to Thee I " 

After many tender partings he finally left Geneva. 

" Tuesday, July 24. — We watched/' he says, " Geneva 
fading from our view, and all the old familiar spots ; then 
wrapped ourselves in silence, till we reached Lausanne. 
La Fleur left us at Nyon ; Lausanne by half-past one ; our 
windows command the lake, and the opening of the Fort 
de l'Ecluse shows us the position of Geneva, and carries 
our thoughts over the past nine months. What mercies ! 
what communions ! what privileges and opportunities ! 
What sorrows and anxieties as well as joys ! What vistas 
insensibly opened up to our spirits ! What shortcomings, 
feeblenesses, unfaithfulness ! Lord, accept our thanks. 
Lord, pardon ; Lord, forgive. Continue Thy loving-kind- 
ness to us, and sanctify whatever was of Thee in the past 
to Thy glory. Amen and Amen !" 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



189 



CHAPTER VIII. 

GENEVA, 1849 — LETTERS TO THE REV. N. MACLEOD, TO HIS MOTHER, 
TO A. HAMILTON, ESQ., MISS HUNTER BLAIR, TO HIS SISTER, TO THE 
REV. W. MADDEN, THE REV. W. KER. 

TO THE REV. NORMAN MACLEOD. 

" Geneva, Jan. 2, 1849. 

" . . . I received your thrice welcome letter on Sunday, 
and had the satisfaction of opening and reading it on New 
Year's Day, as you desired. The horrible practice of hav- 
ing their public services in church at nine o'clock took me 
out at that hour, broke up my New Year's Day, and so has 
prevented me from ' first-footing ; you, by writing yester- 
day. I choose, however, to consider this as a prolongation 
of the first day of the year. I make it so to myself in re- 
spect of quiet home thoughts, and I make it so to you by 
inditing this Benedicite. It is impossible for me to tell 
you the joy your letter gave me, not only for its sweet 
scent of home, at this season so grateful to an alien ; but 
also for its communication of thought. I have no doubt 
I have often heard you in conversation express the same 
sentiments, but we ponder what is written more than 
what is spoken. I hope, therefore, you will not consider 
it lost time to write to me again and again. It is instruc- 



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tion, and that is part of your office. There is, besides, a 
progressive development of mind of which we must all 
be conscious. The same truths to me now are not what 
they were three, two, one year ago. It is to me perfectly 
marvellous how slow the spirit is in opening its eyes to 
take in the deeper meaning of things with which it has 
long been familiar. You reproach yourself, I observe, for 
only now possessing what you might have had a score 
of years ago. I beg to differ from you, from a pretty 
wide induction. The result seems small, but so it is ; our 
nature was not up to it till the moment we possess it, and 
an extraordinary process of preparation, error, and experi- 
ence was necessary even for that. In this view I cannot 
but trace another of these mysterious analogies between 
the history of the world within us, and the world at 
large. What ages did the wisdom of God see fit should 
pass, and what a slow and gradual advance through 
signs and symbols ere the God- man was actually mani- 
fested ! But you will think I am forgetting myself. Only 
I will say this, in conclusion, upon the subject, that I 
daily wonder how long I have been conversant, yea posi- 
tively glib, with the book- work — the algebra of subjects. 
Take, for example, the Christian evidences or doctrines, 
without penetrating into their real weight and force as 
presented, not to the spirit of Paley, Chalmers, or anybody 
else, but — to my own. We, students, are terribly over- 
laid — the remark is general all the world over — with the 
opinions of others, and very little stimulated to think for 
ourselves. The result will soon be appalling, and will 
demonstrate either the blindness or the sin of the system ; 
for it sometimes has proceeded from a Protestant Popery. 
Confessions are to us, what the Church is to the Koman- 
ists. These remarks are, in part, suggested by your let- 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



191 



ter ; but for many years they nave been forcing them- 
selves upon me, and of late have been much deepened. 
Even when our eyes are partially opened, it is as much to 
see the crowd of things which our spirits have yet to sift, 
as to discern a little increase of light on one or two of 
them. And, in spiritual subjects, what constant prayer 
and faith are requisite to retain the light, so subtle is its 
character, or rather so subtle is the counter tendency of 
our materialism. How soon, on that fundamental subject 
for hourly experience, of which I wrote before, does the 
person degenerate into the personality, so that we take 
and make a doctrine of it, on which to discourse occasion- 
ally, and then shelve it. . . . Have you happened to read 
Hare's Memoir of John Sterling f It gives an alarming 
picture of that sad process going on among some of the 
finest spirits at the English Universities, of which John 
Shairp used to tell us, but of which this is the first speci- 
men I have seen brought to light. I wish you would 
read it. I think you will agree with me that Hare is 
not very likely to be of use in muzzling or extracting the 
teeth from the German doctrines as they reach England, 
however competent he may think himself for the task. 
From what you have read of Stanley's, should you think 
even him likely to prove a judicious guide ? or where do 
your hopes lie for the unfledged thinkers and theologians 
in England? I read some of Scott's testimonials from 
Carlyle, Maurice, and others ; and as these are men who 
use words advisedly, he must really be a remarkable fel- 
low. Don't forget to tell me about your interview with 
him ; for, as Johnson used to say, it is an epoch in this 
life to meet a superior person. You say nothing of John 
Shairp ; as you will probably see him at this time, pray 
tell me about him, and give him my masonic love." 



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TO HIS MOTHER. 

"Jan. 10. 

" . . . How much the example of good and devoted 
men (or women) stimulates us ! I sometimes wonder from 
this why we, or perhaps I should say I, am not more 
moved and stimulated by the life of our blessed Lord than 
I am and ought to be. Perhaps it is because we cannot 
so easily regard it as a whole, from the weight of each 
passage, and the slowness with which we are compelled 
and accustomed to read it. Nevertheless, I believe that 
we should saturate ourselves more with this all-perfect 
character as a whole, seeking to have His person defined 
to our minds and spirits, not according to our own no- 
tions, but as the Gospels give it to us, that so we may 
hold communion with Him as with our best-known friend, 
and, from associating with Him, be conformed to His 
likeness. If you will tell me from time to time, as you 
sometimes used to do in our walks, the various aspects 
under which He reveals Himself to you at various periods, 
you will confer a great favour on me, and do my heart 
good. It is to babes and children that He loves to show 
Himself, and I desire to cherish this spirit. . . . 

" The time is drawing nigh when your thoughts, dear- 
est mother, will revert to sadness ; but I trust that, as 
hitherto, you will experience still more that truth, 1 that 
God is the husband of the widow,' and be enabled so to 
realize heavenly things as to feel that in them there is 
far more than a compensation for all else. Such a God, 
such a Saviour, such a Spirit, Sanctifier, and Comforter, 
such hopes, such promises, such present love and heavenly 
communion ! You may believe that I shall be more than 
usually earnest in remembering you before the throne. 
I need not say to you write me soon, for your kindness in 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



193 



this respect has been beyond all, especially my deserts. 
I feel we are to each other, what no one else could now 
be to either of us, and I feel also that this love is infi- 
nitely strengthened by the thought that it is in Christ, 
and that we hope to remain united in a better country 
beyond the grave." 

TO THE KEV. N. MACLEOD. 

" February 2. 

" . . . May it not be said that the movement of our age 
is towards life t I sometimes fancy that I can discern 
three epochs in the Eeformed Churches, corresponding in 
the main to those three weighty epithets — via, Veritas, 
vita. The Eeformers themselves no doubt laid the stress 
chiefly upon the first (via). It was on this Popery had 
gone most astray, obscuring the doctrine of justification 
by faith alone. The epoch following was essentially 
dogmatic (veritas), when the Doctors drew up 4 systems ' 
of the truth. It was now, indeed, Christ as Veritas, 
but the dogma taken alone led to coldness, dogmatism, 
sectarianism, and formality. Happy will it be for the 
Church, if, not forgetting the other two, she shall now 
be found moving on to the third development of Christ 
as vita — the life, which will regulate the two former 
aspects, while it consummates and informs them. This 
life must develop the individual, and on individuals 
the church depends ; for in God's sight it is no abstrac- 
tion. Norman ! as little centres of influence let us 
make it our first work to foster and exhibit this principle 
of life — living union with Christ Himself. Thus indeed 
may we 4 make our lives sublime,' and effect more for the 
advancement of the kingdom of Christ than if we had the 
eloquence and genius of the greatest orators. . . . This fine 

N 



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day carries my thoughts across the Jura to dear old Scot- 
land, including England, and with all her foibles, peer- 
less among nations, for all that is domestic, romantic, 
holy, good. I do not think any foreigner can know the 
intense peacefulness amid which we are brought up 
from infancy, in the village with its church and common, 
or in the Highland glen, which no stranger-war, at 
least, has swept within the memory of man. We should 
have better ideas of heaven than other nations ; and I 
believe the sight of that calm holy sea in youth does more 
to anchor our souls through life than anything else save 
religion." 

TO ANDREW HAMILTON, ESQ. 

" Geneva, Feb. 8, 1849. 
" My dear Andrew, — I was very happy to receive 
your letter. I have had many thoughts of you since the 
day you saw me in bed at Lasswade ; where you were, 
and what you were doing, a speck on the broad breast 
of heaving Germany. At last comes your letter, showing 
me how you have realized the very vision you contem- 
plated. How different the society, the ideas, the outward 
and inward life, amid which we have been respectively 
moving for the last three months ! Did you see Christ- 
mas in Germany, as Coleridge so exquisitely describes it ? 
But you wish me to be egotistical : so I shall. We had a 
glorious autumn here on first arriving, but December and 
January were externally gloomy, foggy, unnatural months. 
Now, however, the blessed sun again predominates, and 
in such circumstances, Geneva is a charming place. . . . 
I suppose, in your retirement, you have not yet come 
much in contact with German theology and opinions. 
We get an echo of them here, perhaps more true than 
that which reaches us in Scotland, across the channel. I 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



195 



fear that in some form or other they are certain to find 
their way extensively among us, and I hope, therefore, 
that some provision will be made among our students and 
future theologians to encounter them intelligently. Many 
of our opinions are traditional. We receive them by in- 
heritance, and it is a goodly one ; but I believe the time 
is near when we must make good our title to the inherit- 
ance by a more conscious mental and spiritual effort. I 
think if the study of German theology and opinions leads 
to this, it will do us much good. There is first the kernel 
to be possessed and held fast in the adorable person of the 
Lord Jesus — God historically manifest in the flesh, and 
profoundly adapted to all the wants of our spiritual 
being ; then there are the Scriptures which set Him forth 
in His person, character, and teaching. I feel we very 
much require to get back from doctrines and systems 
crystallized, into a more living and life-giving form of the 
truth. In other words, we must know, love, and have 
constant intercourse with Christ as our God, Saviour, 
Friend, and Brother ; and all the rest must and will ema- 
nate from this. We must begin at the centre, and not at 
the circumference — which all systems are liable to do. 
Eeligion is love even more than light. I believe a more 
diligent study of the Scriptures, with the Spirit and 
prayer, will eminently lead to this ; but we have too much 
neglected it. Well then, for the present adieu, praying 
that you may grow daily in this delightful and soul-satis- 
fying knowledge." 

TO MISS HUNTER BLAIR. 

" February 17. 

" . . . I find much to interest me here in a religious 
point of view ; so much life, and such a concentration of 



196 



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zeal and energy. There is nothing strikes me more than 
the prominent part taken by the laity in the advance- 
ment of Christ's kingdom, which, I think, surpasses us as 
far as we surpass England in this respect. It seems to be 
wholesome both for ministers and people, warranted by 
Scripture, and agreeable to the practice of the early Chris- 
tians, that, while some have the special care of souls, 
all believers should contribute to advance the spiritual 
kingdom, not only directly but indirectly. Our good 
laymen, in general, make sacrifices and undertake ex- 
penses ; but do not so much labour in their sphere, and 
in social church-meetings, to stir up the gift that is in 
them. The thought of this being required at their 
hands, promotes diligence in the closet — gives greater 
reality to the life of God — refreshes the Church, and none 
more than the minister himself, when he is weary and 
overwhelmed. There is one church here where an entire 
service each Sunday, and frequent meetings throughout 
the week, are devoted to this free exercise of the Chris- 
tian priesthood. They seem desirous to make the Chris- 
tian life really predominate over and pervade the secular, 
and so are not content to give it merely the corner and 
stated place which is still so common among us. I can- 
not help thinking that this diffusion and enhancing of 
Christian duties and responsibility will be one of the 
great harbingers of a better day for the Church/ ' 

TO HIS YOUNGEST SISTER. 

" Geneva, March 23. 
"... Dear spot (Geddes) ! — how often my thoughts 
travel thither, and I wander once more by wood or stream 
or shady grove, or over the joyous fields with the lark 
shouting above my head, and the drone-bee humming by* 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



197 



What peace, what repose — patriarchal country ! Abra- 
ham might yet sit there by his tent door, in the heat of 
the day, and entertain angels unawares ! Ye glorious 
hills of Cromarty and Eoss ! there is nothing more beauti- 
ful than you in the world — not Jura, not Ben Blanc, not 
the Alps.* Do you see the matchless colouring of the 
Black Isle — that perfect opening for the bay — those 
dreamy hills of Sutherland, and those pinnacles west- 
ward in Strathglass ? worthy of old Jove himself. God 
be with you, happy people, whose lot it is to dwell ever 
among such scenes, and to know nothing of the tur- 
moil and strife that rend the world ! Study the Bible ; for 
its atmosphere, at least, is there reproduced, and abide the 

* The following verses, penned at this time in Geneva, whatever poetic merit 
they possess, are interesting from their truthfulness of feeling, and the evidence 
they afford of the passionate attachment he had to his early home. They refer to 
the expedition to Geddes, in Chapter V. 

"I stood alone on lone 31acdhui's crest, 

I gazed abroad upon the glorious scene ; 
An agony of yearning seized my breast, 

In thinking of the pleasures that had been. 
Before me gleamed the rapid rolling Spey, 

And that great valley where my fathers sleep 
Long had I pined in Lowlands far away. 

And now, this vision ! how could I but weep ! 
Yonder the road that bore me to my home — 

Yonder the white-wall'd house of Aviemore — 
All monumental of the thoughts that come 

In fits and gusts upon the days of yore. 
Yonder Brae Moray with its well-known knock, 

That oft look'd down on days and rides of glee ; 
And yonder, too, as bright as if to mock 

The distance — yonder my beloved sea. 
Ah ! there must lie the scene of all my joy, 

That which gave tone to all my after life; 
Geddes '. the birthplace of the dreamer-boy — 

Geddes .' name with all heart-stirrings rife ! 
G-od, the past o'erwhelms me witb a sense 

Of Thy great goodness to an erring child; 
Father in Christ, my refuge and defence 

Continue Thou, amid life's tempests wild." 



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MEMORIALS OF 



time when all the earth shall become as tranquil and as 
still under the Prince of Peace. My child, farewell !" 

TO ROBERT BALFOUR, ESQ. 

" Geneva, April 14, 1849. 
" My dear Eobert, ... As to the Academy, I trust 
to hear that the Boyle and Swinton effort is succeeding. 
Some person wrote me that the Academy was on the 
eve of dissolution ; but the statement in the Witness 
has set my mind at ease. No ; it must not perish ! its 
roots are struck too deep in many hearts for such a con- 
summation. How fearful for a generation of men to be 
obliged to say the school of our boyhood is no more — its 
very existence is a tradition only known to ourselves ! For 
my part, I should feel as if that chapter of my memory had 
been obliterated — as if I was a man who had never known 
a youth, launched upon the seas of life with no sweet 
haven to recur to and sustain the soul. It is agony 
enough to lose the masters that launched us forth ; but 
that the very walls should lose their place on earth, — 
I can fancy nothing more terrible ! I should be gloomy 
all my days ; but away with such thoughts. The hal- 
lowed soil is watered with prayers, and I augur days for 
our children there, such as we ourselves have not known. 
I believe your staff will yet need some mending, but the 
informing spirit is the Kector, and with him you seem 
abundantly content. All particulars, then, on this subject 
will interest me vastly. How strange it is that the halo 
of Greece and Kome, and also, I trust, of beloved Pates- 
tine itself, is indissolubly shed around our youth and the 
place of our education, and so blended with it that we 
cannot distinguish what part of our enthusiastic feelings 
connected with those countries is due to themselves, or 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



199 



simply to their association with the most imaginative, 
poetic, pensive period of our lives. I see the Ehone here, 
and what does it not recall of Hannibal and Caesar, and 
a host of others? But would it be the same were I now, 
for the first time, made acquainted with those heroes of 
the olden time ? — I think not. And as those feelings to 
me are worth the music of the skies, I say, by all means 
introduce your children early to such characters and 
scenes ; and I bless my parents, who saw fit so to intro- 
duce me. The mother's knee, the pastor's Sunday 
school, the Sabbath-evening conversation, are perhaps the 
best associations for the patriarchs and the Holy Land ; 
but hallow the day-school with them too, and you add 
another link to the f electric, mysterious chain wherewith 
we are darkly bound.' 

" Now, dear Eobert, farewell. May the God of peace 
and of all grace be with you and dear Mrs. Balfour, to 
whom pray remember me affectionately; also to Cleghorn, 
T. Thomson, Maclagan, and other friends. I try to live 
upon my knees, and I find it is the only plan. My heart 
is knit to Geneva, chiefly, I believe, because I have en- 
joyed here much communion with God in Christ. I find 
the • more childlike and dependent I can keep my heart, 
the more I thrive ; and, above all, I find that an occa- 
sional cross is one of the richest tokens of a Father's love. 
I trust your experience has been kindred, and has ex- 
ceeded mine. I never forget you in my prayers, al- 
though often feeble ; and I feel as if you did not forget 
me. — Your very affectionate friend." 

TO THE REV. W. MADDEN. 

" April 27. 

" My very dear Wyndham. — Your letter refreshed me 



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MEMOKIALS OF 



much, I cannot tell you how much ; and that sweet post- 
script from Mrs. Madden, that opens up such a view of 
domestic happiness, and makes me almost envious of your 
lot. Your vista in life appears plain — it is to breathe 
the atmosphere of heaven ; to he made acquainted with 
those trials of daily life, that make the Bible sweet to 
us, and its promises most precious ; to know the joy that 
rises out of sorrow and suffering, so that earth will be 
serene and pleasant to you, but the thought of heaven 
still more so. This is what I picture, and perhaps even 
hope for you and your companion. I feel that my own 
lot is much more uncertain, and likely to be more full of 
trial ; but it is a haven to my soul to be able to think 

on such a path as yours I am so conscious of an ardent 

desire to serve Christ, and to enter on the work of the 
ministry, from personal reasons as well as more important 
ones, that I can the more trust myself in resolving to take 
this step. It seems only the natural conclusion to such 
a visit as I have made here ; and always considering the 
feebleness of my capacity, I shall not think it lost if 
I receive only as much profit from it as I have done from 
a winter's residence at Geneva. It would be difficult 
for me to give you the results of this latter in so many 
words, for it consists more in an enlarged horizon, men- 
tally, theologically, and spiritually, than in definite ac- 
quisitions. Still my mind has gone through a process in 
many points, which must have been useful, even though 
it has only brought me back, I am happy to say, to 
what I held before, but which I now hold more intelli- 
gently, more thankfully, more humbly. I speak especially 
with regard to the evidences for the truth of Christianity, 
and the inspiration of the Sacred Kecord. I do think it 
is well for certain minds, and especially those which are 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



201 



to guide and guard others, to be shaken out of traditions, 
and brought to accept and welcome the truth as though 
they were the first to whom it had been presented. It 
becomes then a living element of our minds and hearts, 
and eveiy after detail, as well as every action of our 
lives, must feel this influence : commonplaces, unreal 
opinions, unreal words vanish, and we feel the freshness 
of the truth, and diffuse its savour all around." 

TO THE REV. WILLIAM KER. 

" Geneva, May 3. 
" My dear Ker, — The thought of writing to you was 
simmering in my head when your letter to Burn Murdoch 
arrived, and brought it to the point. Believe me, neither 
laziness nor aught else has delayed me, but the wish to 
allow an interval between our communications. Can it be 
that you are once more at home— and, still more dream- 
like, can it be that you were ever here, crossing the 
petit pont. haunting the Societe de Lecture, looking on the 
Saleve, visiting the Scherers, Stevensons, &c, with our- 
selves ? It is indeed like 1 a dream remembered in a dream ! ' 
. . . And so now you are regarding the hills of Dumbarton 
and Argyllshire, and finding no fault with them in com- 
parison of the Alps ! No more do I ; on the contrary, I 
am ready to maintain against all comers, that our hills 
surpass the Alps in everything except sublimity and 
silence, which is itself sublime. It is perhaps a merciful 
provision that every man stands up for his own. But 
who can call Mont Blanc his own, except old Winter ? 
I am glad you are yet to have a few months' respite before 
mounting bavette, and froc du charbonnier, as Colonel 
Saladin somewhat irreligiously calls the gown and bands 
— for those words, see Nugent When the time comes, 



202 



MEMORIALS OF 



I have no doubt you will sit them very well, and enter- 
tain a due horror of such unlicensed meetings as are held 
at the Pelissene here. I never took possession of your 
rooms ; I could not. I could neither quit my own little 
abode, where I had so often shivered during the winter, nor 
have your ghost, which I knew would haunt me by night 
and by day. So Chatelanat is now in the camera major, 
a roost being put in the corner where your books stood ; 
and so on Sundays the doleful violin takes the place of 
our more Christian worship. We visited the room, and 
here quantum mutatus ab illo. The other little room is 
still empty ; but La Fleur thinks of dropping into it when 
the summer heat begins to roast the tiles, and through 
them, him. All else goes on as before. We meet in my 
room, and sometimes have Eoux and La Fleur. Only there 
is no saying now when we may breakfast ; one would 
almost require to go to bed harnessed, for the first man 
up, be it nearer six than seven, rings the bell, and the 
whole set roll into their dressing-gowns, and are down at 
once, leaving B. M. and me to wash at our leisure, and 
consequently to breakfast at our leisure. Claudine per- 
sists in the old routine of viands, so that if you chose you 
may even know each day what we are having for dinner ; 
and guess how we are digesting it. It is remarked that 
B. M. smokes much less since he has lost your pernicious 
example. Did he tell you of Count St. George having pre- 
sented us with some cigars to refresh us in our labours ? 
Since our excursion with Scherer, we have done nothing 
very deadly. I am glad to say he is gaining ground every 
day, but it is by a total cessation from work : he lectures, 
of course, as usual. The devices he falls upon for exer- 
cise are most amusing. In addition to a daily bath in 
the Arve, he has taken to rowing on the lake till his 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



203 



hands are covered with blisters : and the other day we 
found him scarcely able to walk — he had been to the riding 
school, and not being allowed stirrups, had got a shaking 
till every bone and rib ached. We still discountenance 
the other lectures, and I am inclined to think Dr. Merle 
has forgiven us. He and Madame have several times in- 
quired for you. You will soon see La Harpe. He gave 
us a famous breakfast before he went away. Keid and 
Stevenson were of the party. We assembled in his rooms, 
roaming at large through bedroom, drawing-room, study. 
&c, and delighting his heart by still further disarranging 
his books and papers. Then breakfast was announced 
in Eobert's saUe. It began with fowl and sausage, and 
ended with superb ere me and eau de ee rises : so that, in 
fact, it was a resume of all the meals of the day. We 
did it great justice, and so did he : Stevenson nearly slew 
us with some of his stories. By the bye, Scherer was 
there too, and ate and laughed till his face grew blue. . . . 
What shall I say of our weather now ? It is too heavenly ; 
towards the middle of April, it took it into its head to 
snow and blow, and be very disagreeable, but now and for 
a week back it is voluptuous — trees, hedges, all like to 
burst with beauty. You can have no conception of it : 
and then the sounds and smells that remind us alike of 
home and old visits to the Continent ! At this very mo- 
ment (evening), the frogs are making a most characteristic 
row, which goes on all night ; so are the grasshoppers or 
rather crickets — to show that I do profit by my companion's 
science. Then the bees and the cockchafers, &c. ; oh ! 
how delicious. . . . Farewell, dear Ker ! I have filled this 
letter with gossip, not caring how it came, thinking you 
would like it best to remind you of the past. I trust 
we shall soon be brothers in arms as we have been this 



204 



MEMORIALS OF 



winter in repose. The Lord bless yon and keep yon, and 
canse His face to shine npon yon. If yon live in close 
nnion and commnnion with Jesns Christ, yonr ministry 
must be blessed, for ont of the abundance of the heart 
your mouth will speak ; the humble will hear thereof and 
be glad. I trust that our ways are all ordered by Him 
who knows to lead us as our case requires, and in due 
time to place us where we shall be most useful. You are 
not forgotten in our prayers, social or private. Let us 
not be in yours.' 1 

TO HIS MOTHER. 

" Geneva, May 8. 
" My darling Mother, — I had been expecting your 
letter for two or three days, with an account of your stay 

at , and your communion at Edinburgh, and was on 

the point of writing you to-day, when lo! your beloved 
hand. Many, many thanks for both, so refreshing to a 
heart that is far from you, but loves you more than its 
ownself. Truly there is force in that simile of 4 Good 
news from a far country/ I wonder how old Solomon 
could have known the feeling, for it is not likely he was 
ever far away from those he loved ! I liked exceedingly 
the idea of your going to Portobello, first communicated 

to me by in her delightful letter ; and pictured to 

myself all last week your walks on the beach, your simple 
tea, and the novelty altogether of your situation on wak- 
ing and on going to rest. I hope the change has done 
you good ; but, after all, you were chiefly in Edinburgh, 
and then that too long walk afterwards at this season of 
the year, for which I do hope you are all three recovered. 
I know the road well by the Duke's walk, having often 
paced it in anguish and sorrow, and a long hot walk it 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



205 



is. By and bye. we may make such a sea-shore escap- 
ade together, and walk at evening by the boundless sea. 
talking of what we have read and done, but, above all, of 
our aspirations, and that shoreless eternity that awaits us. 
and that boundless ocean of the love of God in which we 
can ever bathe, but which shall afterwards fill our heart 
to overflowing. I am truly glad you had such a sweet 
season at the communion. You might have felt I was 
with you in spirit and in prayer, as was the case. 1 My 
Lord and my God ! 1 Yes, it is to address Christ thus as 
if seeing Him face to face, conversing with Him as a 
man with his friend ; it is this that overpowers our souls, 
humbles us in the dust, under a sense of unlimited love 
and kindness, and makes us daily taste of heaven upon 
earth. TThat majesty, what beauty, what purity, what 
compassion, what grace, what tenderness, what strength ! 
Ah ! yes, He is our all in all. Without Him, undone ; 
when we come to Him. vile ; when we are with Him, 
vile, but not despised, not abhorred, not cast off — no : 
welcomed, washed, clothed, justified, sanctified, presented 
with a new heart and new affections fitted to reflect His 
own image, and to live and do something for His glory. 
Alas ! that we should ever leave His feet, and be content 
to live without hearing His voice from hour to hour, and 
experiencing His sweet regard. It is the Christian's 
right and duty to be ever in this position ; and I trust, as 
we grow in grace, this blessed lot is becoming more and 
more ours. 7 1 

TO THE EEV. N. MACLEOD. 

" Geneva,. May 11. 1849. 
M My deae Xoeman. — I thank you from the bottom 
of my soul for your last letter. So you have been to Lon- 



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MEMORIALS OF 



don and Paris ? Tell me about this. I saw your name 
in Galignani. Did you see anything characteristic at 
Paris, in the shape of Socialist demonstration or the anni- 
versary of the Kepublic ? How odd to think you were 
so near me, and yet unapproachable. I hope both you and 
your sister have much enjoyed and profited by your raid ; 
but oh, remember the halcyon days of this time last year, 
and do not, do not say that this year's doings have sur- 
passed them ! When the balmy freshness of those morn- 
ings at the Priory, the sweet repose, the retirement of all 
strife and din in that happy valley, the mirror of heart 
to heart, the contentment with the present, the aspirations 
for the future — when the poetic w T alks and wanderings, 
the merry, merry evenings ; — trust me, Jane and Norman, 
Jack and Annie, Geneva with its Ehone and lake, its 
Mont Blanc and Jura, has not, shall not, cannot efface 
them from my heart. It was this very time. I wish I 
could once more unite the same parties in the same 
circumstances, putting quid pro quo and writing 8 for 
9 in the signature of the year. But it may not be : we 
must be forward with the younger time ; and who can 
say what destinies await us as individuals, as who can 
say what awaits the nations of the earth ! My own feel- 
ing for the latter is, that everything and every man of 
eminence, and every nostrum that is proposed, is use 
— spent, worn out, effete, belonging to a past order of 
things, but having little to do, except in order of time, 
with the events and men and principles of the future. 
All politics and all newspapers of every country and 
clime disgust and pall me in this respect. I pant for 
something betokening freshness, youth, whether in Church 
or State ; but nowhere or nearly nowhere do I see any 
symptoms of it. Do you share this feeling with me, or 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



207 



does your sanguine nature buoy you up ? I know indeed 
the morning will arrive, and I trust that our generation 
will inaugurate it ; but in the meantime, it is wearisome 
to grope amid a crumbling civilization. . . . TTell, Xorinan, 
write me soon about Tu. and I shall here devote a few 
lines to Ego and his plans. About the end of June, I 
think of quitting Geneva d.v.), and, if my mother con- 
sents to it, which I expect to hear soon, shall make a 
tour in Switzerland — your ear, if you please, that T may 
whisper it in tones that Zephyrus himself could not 
imitate — shall perhaps visit Rome ! ! ! no ! it cannot 
be ! I cannot believe my own writing, still less the 
possibility of accomplishing a purpose so divine ! Of 
course it would be old Eome that I should visit, and I 
should implore my friends to pray that I might retain 
my reason — for such a current from the past and resur- 
rection from my boyhood, might be fatal to a head very 
easily turned ! The Forum, the Capitol, the Via Sacra, 
the Tiber. Apennines, Campagna ! my hand quivers — I 
must stop. Oh ! shades of school-fellows, scattered or 
gathered ! Oh ! shades of teachers, can it be I shall yet 
see where those lived and died who inspired you — where 

Virgil, and Horace, and ! Well, this raving is for 

thyself only. After Eome, Germany beckons me ; maybe 
Berlin for a session ere I return home and buckle on my 
harness. Norman, farewell \" 



208 



MEMORIALS OF 



CHAPTEE IX. 

GENEVA AND SWITZERLAND, 1849. 

John Mackintosh left Geneva at the end of July, after 
having spent nine months there, during which he enjoyed 
great happiness, realizing much intellectual good from 
the calm and undisturbed pursuit of congenial studies, and 
much heart-good from daily intercourse with congenial 
minds. He more than once expresses his deep gratitude 
for all the kindness received by him from his friends, 
" the St. Georges, the Malans, Stevensons, and Scherers ; " 
and confesses that he " left his old home at Champel with 
tears.' ' 

He had now fully resolved " to see Eome also." But 
before doing so, he took an excursion for a month through 
those parts of Switzerland which he had not hitherto vi- 
sited. His friend, Mr. Alex. Burn Murdoch, accompanied 
him part of the way. The weather was glorious. Start- 
ing from Geneva, they sailed along its lovely lake to 
Villeneuve, at its eastern extremity ; and via Aigle, they 
set off on foot for the Ormonds Dessus by Sepey — " a 
lovely walk, which realized all his youthful dreams of 
Swiss scenery, the marvellous green swards, the lovely 
chalets, the smiling simplicity of the foreground, backed 
up by the Alpine grandeur." From l'Eglise, they passed 
under the shadow of the giant Diablerets, and descending 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



209 



the beautiful valley of L'Etivas, reached Chateau d'Oix, 
and from thence walked to Vevay, by the Col cle Jaman 
and Valiere, along " a path winding through the moun- 
tains, covered with chalets, everywhere velvet lawns and 
woods, and hill-sides musical with the bells of cattle 
browsing, or marching in files to be milked." 

He and his friend spent the Sunday at Lausanne. But 
Mr. B. Murdoch being obliged, on Monday morning, to re- 
turn to Geneva for Scotland, they parted, and John writes 
in his Diary : — " Monday. — Saw my dear friend depart ; 
very desolate — returned to hotel." " Tuesday morning. — 
Awoke in prayer forB. M." These feelings he expressed 
in a letter written to him from Berne a few days after- 
wards : — "I followed your Diligence that memorable 
night with the eye, and afterwards with the ear, as long 
as I could. After that, I returned desolate to the inn. 
Next morning you were first in my thoughts, as though I 
still held your hand ; in truth, I awoke in prayer for you." 

From Lausanne he wrote the following letter to 
me : — 

"July 31. 

" The wish to give you some details on Church matters, 
has made me delay longer to answer your last most 
welcome letter than I should otherwise have done. ... In 
truth, it would appear that God is destining Switzerland 
to be the cradle again of a second and equally important 
Keformation in the Protestant Churches. 

" Not only at Geneva, but also in the Canton de Vaucl, 
may be seen the elements of an important progress. . . . 
Equally devoted with ourselves to the doctrines accentuated 
in the sixteenth century, they still appear to feel the 
need of revising and accommodating their Confessions to 
the peculiar exigencies of the nineteenth century. i To 

o 



210 



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say/ says Vinet, in the project of a constitution which 
he drew up for the Free Church of the Canton de Vaud, 
' that confessions and formularies are unalterable, is to 
place the work of man on an equal footing with the Bible 
itself, and thus to fall into the very error of Eomanism/ 
This far-seeing man, privileged to make those fetches 
into the future, for which all minds are not yet ripe, but 
which indicate almost certainly to what the Church is 
tending, was very strongly opposed to a cumbersome and 
detailed confession. He thought it should be such as 
each member could conscientiously subscribe ; and that 
thus only could it be truly the confession of a Church, 
including in this term both ministers and people, and 
doing away with that dangerous distinction between a re- 
ligion for the laity and another for the clergy, which he 
regarded as one of the fatal legacies of Popery. How 
far this view is correct, will no doubt be brought under 
the notice of all the churches. One thing, however, is 
unquestionably true, — that the germ of what constitutes a 
Christian may be comprised within a very small compass, 
this being the positive side of confessions ; while the 
negative, or that which is to serve as a defence against 
heresies, must be of a very different character in the six- 
teenth and in the nineteenth centuries. In the former, 
Popery — in the present, infidelity — would be chiefly re- 
garded, always excepting the unchangeableness of Pela- 
gianism and Socinianism, which appear to be the contem- 
poraries of every age, and to strike against the germ or 
positive side of the truth. 

u The document of Vinet, to which I have alluded, 
like everything that ever came from his gifted pen, is 
deeply interesting, from the reasoning with which his pro- 
positions are supported. The venerable Neander — stand- 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



211 



ing like a prophet between two mighty epochs, and whose 
afflicting blindness, while it prevents him from any more 
investigating the past, may cause him to look with the 
eye of faith upon the future — is known to have received, 
with eager interest, the draft of M. Yinet's plan ; but 
his criticism I have not learned. I cannot doubt but 
that from the elevated though solitary watchtower of 
Lausanne, the signal was caught up by the brother watch- 
man more instructed in the history of the past, but 
perhaps not so favoured with those flashes of inspiration 
which open vistas into the night of the future. 

" The suggestions of Vinet have not been altogether 
adopted in the constitution of the Free Church of Vaud. 
In this light, it is interesting to compare the two docu- 
ments ; but a simplicity, and therefore a largeness, cannot 
be denied to the articles as they even now stand. . . . You 
see I write from Lausanne, so that I have bid farewell to 
dear Geneva, having quitted it with much gratitude and 
much regret. . . . 

" My window here commands a glorious view of the 
Lake ; towards the west, the hills above Geneva fading 
from my view ; towards the east, a magnificent panorama 
of Alps closing in upon the lake, with Chillon, Clarens, 
and other well-known places at their base ; opposite, the 
mountains of Savoy. Below my windows, and on the 
banks of the lake, Ouche, the little port of Lausanne, and 
the birthplace of the immortal Yinet ; and still nearer me, 
in fact right under my eye, that memorable acacia w 7 alk 
where Gibbon completed his History of the Decline and Fall. 

" I have met many of the pastors here, heard them 
preach in private houses ; and to-day communicated with 
a little stealthy flock. 

" To-morrow I leave for Berne, and, God willing, hope 



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to make the tour of Switzerland ere descending among 
the monuments that date b.c. Amid all this beauty, I 
still feel that 1 the eye is not satisfied with seeing ; ' and 
that the soul requires something for its immortal appetite 
which 4 eye hath not seen, neither hath entered into 
the heart of man to conceive.' One word amid the most 
glorious wonders of creation ; — I turn to the thought of 
the God-man with inexpressible sweetness — to Him who, 
being the brightness of the Father's glory and the express 
image of His Person, ' hath by Himself purged our sins, 
and sat down on the right hand of the Majesty on high.'" 

From Lausanne he travelled to Berne via Fribourg. 
From Berne, he thus wrote to his friend Mr. Ker, who 
had just entered upon the charge of a congregation in 
Scotland : — " Our prayers for you have ascended often, 
and yet not often enough, considering the solemnity, im- 
portance, and novelty of your position. May God give 
you to live for Him, to experience much in your own soul 
of the love of Christ, and that you may be able con- 
scientiously, ably, and fervently to commend His cause 
to others ! And may His Holy Spirit so accompany your 
words and labours, that many may be introduced by your 
means into the kingdom of righteousness, peace, and love. 
It is a great matter to get the simple facts of the case 
clearly before our minds, and to keep them there. We 
are so apt to lose sight of them amid the forms and 
machinery to be employed, and the conventionalities of 
language and every-day life. The sight, however, of 
Christ, with the consideration of His work, past, present, 
and to come, must be the best and surest preservative 
against lapsing into a mere preaching and visiting ma- 
chine, which, I have no doubt, is the natural tendency 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



213 



of even the best of ministers. May He who has called 
you, employ and perfect you ! So prays your ever at- 
tached friend and future brother in arms.'' 

The rest of bis journey, as far as Zurich, is thus briefly 
sketched in a letter to his sister. Mrs. Edward Smith : — 

" Zurich, August 21. 
" My dearest Chris.. — Being the most Swiss of my 
sisters, I send you a stave at this stage of my travels, for 
the above reason, and also because our mother being 
now with you, a letter to you is as good as one to her. 
I bitterly regret not having told her to write to me here, 
because I should have had plenty time to receive her 
letter : and I am now very far back in my knowledge of 
her health and movements, which is always a source of 
irksomeness when one is far away. My last letter to her 
was written from Lausanne : thence I passed to Berne, 
admiring the organ and suspension-bridge of Fribourg 
on my way. Berne is a beautiful town, and beautifully 
situated on the Aar, which washes the town on three 
sides. Geneva is scarcely Switzerland — Lausanne rather 
more so ; but Berne is its capital, and the true starting 
point for all its lakes and mountains. You can fancy 
nothing liner than the view of the Bernese Alps from 
some parts of the town ; the Jungfrau and her brethren 
appearing in long array, like the ghosts of winter ; or. 
when the sun is shining on them, like something too 
bright and pure for earth. From Berne I went to Thitn. 
which is cpiite a fairy little town, situated at the extremity 
of its lake, and contrasting the utmost softness with 
the stern mountains near which it lies. You sail up the 
lake and reach Interlaken, so called because it lies be- 
tween the lakes of Thun and Brientz — another fairy spot, 



214 



MEMORIALS OF 



and, at this season, the height of fashion — having superb 
hotels, where people delude themselves into the idea that 
they have exchanged the dissipations of town for the 
bracing life of the mountains, because they are near the 
mountains. Quitting Interlaken, I took up a valley of 
wonderful beauty to Lauterbrunnen, which is quite up 
among the glaciers, and the mountains that give them 
birth ; from Lauterbrunnen you cross the Wengern Alp 
— a high col which brings you round in front of the 
Jungfrau and her peers, so that it appears as if you could 
caress her, or take any other liberty you please. Nothing 
can be more glorious than this view ; the near neighbour- 
hood of such redoubtable sky-piercers, in their awful 
purity and silence, is appalling ; the only sound to break 
the stillness is that of the avalanche, which you some- 
times see descending, apparently indeed disproportionate 
to the thunder it makes, but*conveying all the more an 
impression of its greatness, when you know that what 
seems but a cascade of snow is in reality composed of 
blocks of ice and snow, capable of subverting villages. I 
think of the Jungfrau as what might form a great white 
throne of awe and majesty for the judgment-day ! From 
this point you descend upon the village of Grind el wald, in 
a valley of the same name, and close by two glaciers, which 
are also called after the valley into which they descend. 
As the setting sun reflects an innocence and a peace on 
chalet, hamlet, and corn field, the contrast between the 
Alps and those valleys at their feet is unique ; and the 
emotions it excites is what is termed poetry ! From 
Grindelwald, still skirting round the Alps, the traveller 
generally crosses over the great Scheidek to reach the 
parallel valley of Meyringen. We, however, turned aside 
and climbed the Faulhorn — a high hill commanding a 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



215 



very extensive panorama of Alps, and lakes, and valleys, 
and far-off mountains to the north, in France and Ger- 
many. We were fortunate in having a clear day ; but 
the evening became overcast, and a thunderstorm ensued 
around and beneath, very grand and terrific in its cha- 
racter. There is an inn on the very summit, some 8000 
feet high, I think, and there we passed the night. When 
all had retired to rest, I climbed to the summit, and felt 
eerie at the spectacle — wind, rain, lightning, and some- 
how the thought of the near neighbourhood to the huge 
Alps, with avalanches and glaciers. A few lights twinkled 
in the Grindelwald. It was like going on deck in the 
midst of a storm on the great Atlantic. Xext day brought 
us to the lovely valley of the Eeichenbach, with the 
glacier of Eosenlaui — one of the most beautiful and come- 
at-able in Switzerland. One can get in below it, as it 
were, and admire its walls and roof of crystal blue, while 
the cold clear water percolates from it on every side. This 
is the winning side of glaciers, but higher up they are no 
joke — a sea, a torrent of slowly but surely moving ice. 
My first week ended at Meyringen — a village and valley 
just under the stupendous fall of the Eeichenbach. Thence 
we made an excursion to the Lake of Brientz, of glassy 
green, reflecting its quiet hills ; and on the banks of which 
is the beautiful waterfall of Giesbach, reputed to be the 
most beautiful in Switzerland. It is a succession of falls, 
perhaps five or six, which you can see ail at once, looking 
so intensely white, and a rich foliage of intensest green. 
One of the wonders of this most wonderful country, is, 
that you may travel for weeks, and find no two days, I 
might say no two hours, alike in respect of the scenery 
you visit. Each waterfall is new, each glen, each glacier 
— so we found it on Monday on resuming our course. 



216 



MEMORIALS OF 



We traced the Aar up to its source in the great Aar 
glacier near the Grimsel ; and what pen can describe the 
awful solitude and increasing sterility of that valley, as 
you gradually wind up until you find yourself in company 
with the bare mountain -tops, cheek by jowl with remote 
glaciers, and actually walking where they must once 
have flowed. There is a hospice there, called the Grimsel, 
which is now used as an inn, and where we reposed 
amongst the sublimest objects of nature. I should not 
omit to mention the celebrated fall of the Aar or Handek, 
which you pass in ascending to the Grimsel, and where 
two vast torrents unite their waters at half way in their 
descent. It is very striking, and, in its way, a prodigy. 
From the Grimsel we visited the glacier in which the 
Khone has its source — the most magnificent I have seen, 
and worthy parent of such a stream. There is none of 
the usual turbulence about this source, but a quiet con- 
sciousness of future strength and greatness. Yet certainly 
among those solitudes, and with this comparatively tiny 
stream before you, it was curious to think of Geneva, 
Lyons, Marseilles, the Mediterranean, and the commerce 
of nations. Crossing a wild pass, called the Furca, we 
descended into the valley of the Keuss, and joined the 
Great St. Gothard road from Switzerland into Italy. This 
valley is very fine in itself, and famous as the scene of a 
long struggle at the end of last century, between the 
Austrians, French, and Eussians ; at its mouth lies Altorf 
— a lovely Swiss town, realizing all one has read or 
dreamed in youth of such places. Near it is the birth- 
place of Tell, which I visited ; and on reaching the Lakes 
of Lucerne, at no great distance, you soon see Grutli, and 
other spots famous in the early history of Swiss inde- 
pendence. The Lake of Lucerne — how I longed to have 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



217 



you there ! — it surpasses all that the most ardent fancy 
had conceived. Such softness, combined with such lofty 
grandeur — such variety in its : ; ays and turns, and undu- 
lating shores, and villages, and wools, and lawns, and 
rocky mountains. I can only huddle together words ; but 
to feel it, you must see it. And then, too. the thought 
that it is the heart of Switzerland, having on its shores 
those four cantons — Uri, Unterwalden. Schweitz, and 
Lucerne — that nursed her patriots of old, and formed the 
theatre of their exploits ! On the hanks of this lake 
stands the celebrated Eighi hill, which you must ascend 
to witness a sunset and sunrise, if you would have the 
credit of making a complete tour in Switzerland. This 
I did, and was well rewarded — the panorama being even 
more extensive than that from the Faulhorn. and includ- 
ing some dozen beautiful lakes. Here too there is a fine 
hotel on the summit. Xext day we descended upon 
Kusnacht, where Tell shot Gessler, and finally reached 
Lucerne — a town worthy of its name. Thence I came to 
Zurich, where I now write you. Its lake is charming, 
different from all I have seen, having gently-sloping hills 
r.l . ... i'.s • . . s. v -. y _ -. . ; . and smiling, and studded 
with innumerable white villages and houses that give it a 
very gay and happy aspect. The town at the end of the 
lake is also very beautiful and lively, combining industry 
with beauty. So ends my personal narrative for the 
present, and soon I hope to cross the Alps into Italy. My 
love, you may think that I do not think of you, because 
I write you seldom ; it is far otherwise, and I only wish 
I could believe I was as often in your thoughts as you 
are in mine. My tenderest love to Xed and the bairns, 
especially Bill. how my heart warms to home, particu- 
larly just at present, when the friends I had with me 



218 



MEMORIALS OF 



during my tour hitherto, have left me, and I have no one 
to fall back upon but myself! I wish I had you here, 
or any of you ; but it cannot be — only a friend enhances 
wonderfully the pleasure of things. Well then, love, in 
every mood we have a friend in God, in that Saviour who 
is infinitely compassionate and condescending, and who 
has pity on our weakness. It is good sometimes to be 
alone, though. We may draw near to Him, and prove 
how true He is to all His promises, and how fitted to 
supply all our wants — above all, that want of one to love, 
which our hearts need. Have I your prayers ? Believe 
me, you have mine ; and may the God of love ever watch 
over you and keep you. Those fair sights of creation 
fill our hearts with love and praise ; but far less, after all, 
than the great work of redemption, or God contemplated 
in the face of Jesus Christ. It is this which brings us 
near, and enhances all other thoughts of God. "With 
warmest love, then, to all around you, — believe me, ever 
your fondly attached brother. " 

He was fortunate in having as his companion, during 
almost the whole of this part of his tour, a Mr. Adams, a 
student of divinity from America, who had been attending 
the University of Berlin during the winter, and to whom 
he soon became greatly attached. 

Diary. — " Fribourg. — Arriving at half-past two a.m. 
I walked about till full daylight. ... I can never forget 
the transition from moonlight to that of day — from the 
unusual giddy visionary character of the one — to the dis- 
tinct and palpable of the other. As the coming sun 
streaked the heavens, my thoughts flew at once to those 
halcyon mornings when I have witnessed it in like guise 
from Geddes and the hill of Urchany. Never, for months, 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



219 



have I been able to survey that far past so free from mist ; 
for, as if looking through a powerful telescope, I felt as 
if I could converse with each object apart, and with the 
individuals who thronged the scene. Such glimpses are 
from heaven, and assure me that my mind and imagi- 
nation are not yet altogether wrinkled : but may at any 
time, if so permitted, renew their youth. Yet, if compared 
with former, how seldom do I enjoy those visitations of 
the clear-sighted soul I 

" August 16. — Commenced ascent of the Kighi. Day 
very warm, and views of lake so superb that it was im- 
possible to get on. Bavishing and resistless beauty ! There 
was nothing for it but to cry ; the mountain-tops were 
bare — the lake so giassy — its coasts so varied with ham- 
lets, villages, innumerable bays. Lucerne with its battle- 
ments in the distance. All this added to the thoughts of 
youth, and songs and sisters which came flitting over the 
soul, like i a dream remembered in a dream/ View from 
summit magnificent ; I say, finer far than Faulhorn, be- 
cause far more extensive. You have not only the over- 
land Alps, but a real panorama from west to east, as far 
as the horizon goes ; great variety in their form and gran- 
deur, not less than twelve lakes visible, and the northern 
and north-western horizons still more distinct. I can 
fancy few things more superb ; people continued to arrive 
on horseback, on foot, &c, to the last. The sun did his 
part admirably, tinging the whole western heavens with 
a marvellous glow, that set off the long outline of the 
Juras and Yosges, and glorified them to the eye as well as 
to the soul. The lakes reflected his rays with dazzling 
magnificence. Only the Bernese Alps, to the far west, 
were not so free of clouds as they should have been, and 
gave back no crimson glow. I was enchanted; my 



220 



MEMORIALS OF 



ecstasy over, it was something to look round on my co- 
admirers, and smile at their appearance — representatives 
of every nation and every character here, determined to 
be pleased ; but shivering under the cold north wind with 
red eyes and red noses, and their hands in their breeches 
pockets. Young ladies with overshadowing Swiss bonnets, 
which the wind blew into a thousand shapes, in spite of 
all their efforts to * fix 7 them : Austrian s listening to the 
story of Tell and Sempach ; German students, in knots, 
marking the summits from their guide-books ; men selling 
souvenirs, and fat old ladies buying them : one Edinburgh 
man, with undoubted dialect, who had seen it all before, 
proving that too much familiarity breeds contempt ; newly 
married couples thinking of anything but the view ; and 
other persons and figures indescribable. When all was 
over, a Swiss went round and gathered 'bash/ as if he 
had the merit of the whole thing ; and that not even a 
sun could rise or set in Switzerland without a guide get- 
ing money for the spectacle ! Some said the worthy had 
blown a horn ; but as far as I could learn, it was in- 
audible to all as well as to myself. Eemained till all 
were gone, then descended with dear Adams. 

" Horgen [Sabbath). — I kept the house, and tried to 
raise my heart and soul to God. In the evening I spoke to 
young Swiss merchants, and to the waiter, on religion. 
Gave the latter Valaisane which I had just read, recom- 
mending him to serve first his Master in heaven. ... I 
have no doubt now — [he had parted from Mr. Adams the 
day before] — that I am much happier with a companion. 
If it is my Father's will, I pray that I may yet meet one to 
accompany me ; but, above all, Lord, be Thou with me ! 
Keep my heart from wandering and estrangement. May 
my joy be in Thee ! May I live continually to Thy glory ! 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



221 



" Zurich, August 20. — Felt an indescribable feeling of 
loneliness (after parting from Adams) come over me. 
Sat down in my bedroom in mute despair, and at last 
found relief in tears. . . . Walked out ; met crowds of 
operatives coming from the factories at six. How like 
our own sons of toil ! Several wished me good evening ; 
my heart warmed to them. I wonder if they have any 
one who cares for their souls ?" 

A letter, written to his mother from Florence, gives 
a bird's-eye view of his journey from the time he left 
Zurich until he entered Italy. 

" Florence, Sept 29, 1849. 
" My dearest Mother, .... After leaving Zurich, I 
spent another week of almost unbounded happiness in that 
country, which, of all I have ever seen, is perhaps the 
one which least disappoints the visions you had formed 
of it. Among these green hills and valleys of surpassing 
verdure, with their houses and villages so clean and pic- 
turesque, their lakes so varied, their streams and water- 
falls so clear and fresh with youth — among those Alps of 
dazzling purity, and all the accompaniments of that be- 
witching country, one could never weary. You seem to 
return to boyhood, if not to days still earlier ; and I never 
could divest myself of the idea that I had once lived and 
moved in such scenes before. I even wondered where 
were my companions who had shared and contributed to 
my delight ? But Italy was before me, and- 1 could not 
linger ; so, after visiting the solitary convent and village 
of Einsiedeln, making my way across the mountains to 
Schweitz — from which the country takes its name, and I 
may say, its character of wild and yet winning beauty — 
I made my way to Glarus, the baths of Pfeffers, and 
thence to Reichenau. Here I spent my Sunday previous 



222 



MEMORIALS OF 



to taking the Spliigen route into Italy, dwelling much on 
the mercies of the past, and big with the thought of what 
another week would achieve in my history. No place 
could be better selected for the eve of such an epoch, for 
it is situated at the confluence of the two Ehines, which 
united, form that majestic river whose waters would yet 
travel almost within sight of Scotland : it lies just at the 
entrance of Yia Mala on the great Spliigen road ; and 
here, moreover, in cotemporary history, poor Louis Philippe 
played the part of schoolmaster, before he had been yet 
schooled himself, in the haps and mishaps of kingcraft. 
On the Monday I started, knapsack still on back, for 
Italy, and spent that night in the high Alpine village of 
Spliigen. Next day I crossed the pass ; on gaining its 
summit, I cast a last regard on the mountains and glaciers 
of transalpine Europe, and immediately commenced my 
descent. This stream trickled down to unite its waters 
with the German Ocean, that with the Adriatic. I cannot 
tell you what I already felt, for although still a long way 
from Eome and strictly classic ground, there were now 
no Alps between me and the country of Virgil, Livy, and 
Horace, and those glorious Komans ! Well then, my 
first night in Italy was spent at Chiavenna, the descent 
being much more wild, and more rapid also on this than 
on the other side. Everything now was strange to me and 
new ; the language disappointed me, being harsher than 
I expected, but the climate was Italian — the luxuriance 
of vine and vegetation was Italian — and the people, espe- 
cially the men, struck me as very handsome. Each one, 
even the most humble, seemed to walk as if his nation 
was yet mistress of the world ! They are tall, dark, and 
of a noble, most picturesque bearing. On the following 
day I reached Como." 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



223 



I shall add to this one or two extracts from the Diary 
of this last part of his Swiss tour : — 

" August 22. — (Eichterswyll.) A luscious morning. 
The sun shone in at my windows, looking on the lake, 
with the brightness of a seraph. On quitting the inn at 
seven, I took the road for Einsiecleln ; there was that fresh- 
ness in the air which one associates with the thought of 
Switzerland, the cottages looked so white and clean, the 
people so industrious, the green fields and wooded lawns 
of the sloping shores gave forth a perfume so luxurious 
that to walk was a delight — one seemed to have wings, 
and, at all events, the thoughts took wing, and made their 
accustomed and alternate journey to the two homes. I 
thought much of the love of God in Christ — a subject ever 
fresh, and alas ! but very shadowy to my mind, except in 
some of its very brightest moments. This fair earth, His 
handiwork, and I, too, His creature. 4 He came to His 
own, and His own received Him not ! ' What condescen- 
sion ! what forbearance ! — the same which He now daily 
exercises towards me, so vile. that precious thought, 
that my vileness does not separate between me and Him ! 
My earthly friends, when they discover it, cease to love 
me, but not so He. I trust He will one day completely 
change this heart and nature, and make me pure, holy, 
humble, like Himself. 

" August 24. — (Lake of Wallenstadt.) Met once more 
the Glarus merchant, whom I had seen at Eichterswyll, 
and who seems to me to have a disposition towards reli- 
gion ; but to whom I had not been able to speak as I 
could have wished. In the steamboat, while admiring 
the very fine scenery, after some interesting conversation 
on Swiss manufactures, &c, I had an opportunity of 
speaking to him at large as I desired. I found that with 



224 



MEMORIALS OF 



much temporal prosperity lie enjoyed precarious health, 
having a tendency of blood to the head. I endeavoured 
to show him how this might prove to him, in fact, more a 
blessing than an evil, if it taught him submission to the 
will of God ; and led him, above all, to live for eternity, 
having made his peace with God through Jesus Christ. 
He was forced to confess that too much prosperity might 
lead to forgetfulness of God, as with himself and others 
whom he knew ; and the view I gave him of his malady, 
and its possible result, seemed so new to him, that he 
thanked me very warmly ; and I would even hope that, 
with the blessing of God's Spirit, I may have been em- 
ployed to say what may afterwards spring up to ever- 
lasting life in his soul. 

" August 27. — (Eeichenau.) Whether from being on 
the eve of a great occasion, or from other inferior circum- 
stances, I slept ill and restlessly last night ; yet the inn 
is good, and the rooms large, having once, it seems, been 
occupied as a convent. I was glad to pause a Sunday 
before undertaking the route that is shortly to bring me 
into Italy. My feelings were wound up to the highest 
pitch — almost solemnized. I have dreamed from youth 
of such a journey, and now, through God's goodness, it is 
about to be realized. With such thoughts I started like 
one embarking on a weighty enterprise, or about to reach 
an era in his existence. The valley of the Ehine, as far 
as Tusis, greatly delighted me, having here, too, that cha- 
racter of feudal grandeur, though in ruins, which you 
find all along its course. The ruins of castles, most beau- 
tifully disposed, were quite innumerable — of every mag- 
nitude, and in every stage of dissolution. Tusis reached ; 
the most of the town appears clean and newly built. I 
entered the Via Mala, and was quite overpowered with 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



225 



the magnificence of its defiles. It is all that you see in 
the most famous ravine passes, multiplied by such factors 
as the Alps and the Khine. There is more than one 
gallery bored through the living rock ; and the majestic 
precipices, clothed almost miraculously with tall dark 
pines, fill the mind with wonder and with horror. Fre- 
quently great masts of firs lie scattered like nine-pins 
among their brethren, bearing witness to the hurricane 
and to the tempest. About half way, you emerge into 
a green cultivated oasis, only to re-enter a valley more 
terrible than the first ; the river forsakes you — for it is 
lost in a subterranean tunnel — and you only know that 
it is there from an occasional blink of its green vexed 
waters and a hollow rumbling, as it burrows its Stygian 
way. The banks slope down, so as almost to meet above 
it ; frequently, especially at the upper bridge, you seem 
hemmed in, as though there were no exit. Through such 
a struggle we enter into life, and sometimes that which is 
to be most distinguished undergoes the cruellest pressure 
at the outset. 

" August 28. — On reaching the summit of the Spliigen 
pass, I paused and contemplated. Yonder the hills of 
transalpine Europe ; southwards, Italy. A little brook 
that had apparently its choice which way to rim, had the 
good sense to prefer the German Ocean to the Gulf of 
Venice, and I rewarded it by a copious libation. Fare- 
well to the north ! I breathed a prayer for my friends ; 
then, turning round, commenced my descent into Italy. 
I felt great on the occasion, and recognised it as an epoch 
in my life. Surg urn cor da /" 



p 



226 



MEMORIALS OF 



CHAPTEE X. 

DIARY OF JOURNEY THROUGH NORTHERN ITALY TO ROME. 

The journey from the Alps to Kome occupied about 
two months, and a minute diary of these and subsequent 
days of travel in Italy, was kept, I rather think, with the 
design of sending or reading it to his mother. Space 
permits only of my giving a few selections from his own 
copious pages, and compels me, therefore, to omit many 
which are equal in interest to those which I now lay 
before the reader : — 

" Wednesday, August 29, 1849. — I was now in Italy ; 
and my first thoughts on waking turned to this fact. I 
praised God, who had hitherto led me in safety, and per- 
mitted me so great an enjoyment ! The morning was 
pre-eminently fine. By ten a.m. we were at Colico, on 
the banks of the Lake of Como. . . . The scenery, until 
Bellaggio, did not strike me as different from what I had 
often seen before. At this point, however, the lake 
divides in two, one branch going to Lecco, the other to 
Como. We took the latter, and nothing could now sur- 
pass the Italian richness of the shores. Villas of luxu- 
rious grandeur, such as you see in pictures, read of in 
novels, and dream of in dreams ; villages of southern con- 
struction with porticos, painted houses and flat roofs, vine- 
yards crowding the hills on either side, covered barges 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



227 



sleeping on their shadows, or skimming the glassy surface 
of the water. It was enough ; my imagination was 
filled, and Italy was written there in enduring colours. 
The sultry heat, however, and somewhat covered sky, 
prevented me from feeling all those raptures I should 
otherwise have done ; I was content to lay up food for 
after reveries. When about half-way to Como, an inci- 
dent occurred which may throw some light on the fidgety 
tenure which the Austrians now have of Lombardy. One 
of their officials, a soldier, who had come on board during 
the passage, took it into his head to eye me very narrowly 
— my dress, person, and accoutrements, and, in a lan- 
guage I did not know, to address me, as I thought, some 
questions thereupon. Thinking it was merely imperti- 
nent curiosity, I told him in French and German I did 
not understand him ; but those languages were to him 
equally unintelligible. At last the scurvy rascal rose, 
quitted his seat, and disappeared. Soon after, he returned 
with one of the Austrian officers, who demanded my pass- 
port of me in German, and wished to know whither I 
was going. A circle was formed in expectation of a 
scene ; but I produced my passport, explained it to him, 
told him my country and destination, and so the matter 
ended. But such scrutiny as this in a steamboat, and 
upon a lake of pleasure, provoked my bile, especially as I 
was conscious of looking openness and innocence itself. 

" (Landed at Como.) — About nine, went out to see the 
effect of moonlight upon the lake and mountains. It was 
indeed voluptuous — I use this word advisedly — for I 
think that herein lies the difference between what I saw 
to-night and what I have seen elsewhere, whether in 
Switzerland or Savoy : it is not that the hills are finer, 
either in form or magnitude, or that the sheet of water 



228 



MEMORIALS OF 



differs in any respect ; but that over all is thrown a rich, 
dreamy, voluptuous influence — the effect, doubtless, of 
atmosphere and climate. There is something intoxica- 
ting even in the air, which predisposes you to see all 
things beautiful. The moon shone down with more than 
usual splendour, every trace of cloud having vanished 
from the crystal sky ; the white houses gleamed with a 
supernatural whiteness, and, especially in the town, were 
brilliantly reflected from the lake ; the mountains trembled 
beneath the wavy light, and all spoke of Italy — the land 
of dreams ! Thus tranquillized, I returned to my room 
fully satisfied that Italy may still be enjoyed at least by 
moonlight : her nights are perhaps more beautiful than 
her days. And so it is in fact — her day is past ; but oh ! 
how beautiful even her night of souvenir and dream ! 

" August 30.— They (the Lombards) appear to me as yet 
a very interesting people — serious, cultivated, industrious, 
gentlemanly, and, though not warlike, perhaps as fit to be 
happy under a government of their own as any European 
nation. By what singular judgment are they condemned 
to be the subjects of a people infinitely less advanced in 
civilisation than themselves ? I know not, except it be in 
retribution for the ancient cruelties and tyranny of that 
people to whom, in many respects, they serve themselves 
heirs. I should fancy that under many regards they were 
the nearest resemblance to the Eomans of the later empire 
of all the Italian peoples — their looks, their luxury, their 
refinement, their letters, I fear I must add too, their effe- 
minacy. 

" August 31. — (Maggiore.) I left the vessel at Baveno, 
and visited the Isola Bella, in company with some others. 
The external effect of these islands had greatly disap- 
pointed me, after all that has been said in their praise ; 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



229 



but the visit to the chateau amply repaid me. It was all 
that the most fervent fancy could dream of the natural, 
heightened by luxury and art. I wandered through 
long corridors, opening into lofty chambers magnificently 
furnished, and decorated with pictures of the first mas- 
ters, while the lake appeared in perspective through the 
open windows, blue as heaven, and glistering like a shield. 
A cool breeze from the south entered and pervaded the 
mansion, and the ripple of the water was heard without, 
alone breaking the silence that reigned around. The 
gardens also pleased me. with their terraces, grottoes, 
and flowers, but especially their trees of every clime, dif- 
fusing fragrance, and conveying an idea of the meridian 
climate that must there prevail. The citron, the orange, 
the pomegranate, the sugar, the cork, were among those I 
chiefly remarked ; and a delicious grove of spruce firs, I 
think, afforded a grateful shade, and created that sighing 
sound among the branches which speaks such soothing 
music to the senses. 

" Sept 1. — The Diligence started for Milan at one. By 
this time the sky had cleared. I was on the roof, upon a 
comfortable seat, without any covering ; so that the view 
was open on every side. The fragrance of trees and of 
heather for a considerable way filled the air, still more 
fragrant after the rain ; the blue retiring hills behind, and 
the vast fiat plains before, richly wooded and cultivated, 
reminded me I was in Lombardy and the valley of the 
Po. I cannot tell what sensations I felt, or what thoughts 
passed through my mind, as we were borne along towards 
Milan, a cool breeze meeting us from the south, and a 
light -blue Italian sky overhead. If there be meaning in 
the expression, I seemed to see more deeply into the 
mystery of the life of man and of the world, when I 



230 



MEMORIALS OF 



reflected in such a country on the history of the past, and 
strove to look out upon the future ; but mystery it still 
remained until revelation came in and solved the difficulty, 
the element of faith being added. The story of those ages 
that have gone down to oblivion, and which yet is not 
oblivion — the development of the world and the change 
of power — the reason of this slow development, and why 
man should oppress man, and often undo all the fair worth 
of time — the riddle of existence, destiny, and the slow 
working out of any consummation whatever — all these, 
and a thousand such questions, flitted over my spirit and 
seemed to acquire a voice still more potent upon the 
battle-field of two, if not of many, civilisations. And 
those old Eomans still live, and those Gauls cut down by 
thousands, and those barbarians who afterwards avenged 
their ancestors, and all who followed them in the Middle 
Ages. It is not so much that here there have been more 
generations, more havoc, or perhaps more changes, than 
elsewhere ; but that their history is written in such un- 
fading colours, and was so critical for the human race, 
that it appears as though it had been selected to be one 
of the gauging-points of human life and human history, 
where that lesson might be read, that 4 one generation 
cometh after another/ and that 1 as a flower of the field, 
so man flourisheth. , The thought, however, came out in 
all the more impressive lustre, that 4 the word of the 
Lord endureth for ever. 7 

" Some autumn leaves already appearing on the trees, 
affected me almost to the verge of weeping, so eloquently 
did they speak the tale of Italy. Thou who hast shown 
to me such unmerited mercy, who hast accompanied me 
hitherto as I cannot doubt, withdraw not from me Thy 
presence, Thy protection, and Thy love, now when I am 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



231 



in the midst of strangers, and wholly cast on Thee ! 
4 1 said, I will confess my transgression unto the Lord, and 
Thou forgavest the iniquity of my sin.' Yes, Thy hand 
is still about me, and my confidence is in Thee ! Lead 
me, Lord, to the praise of the glory of Thy grace ! 

" Sunday, Sept. 2. — (Milan Cathedral.) The exterior 
of the structure arrested me, and after a rapid survey I 
entered by the western door ; the interior was very very 
fine. The people who paced the nave served to illustrate 
its vast proportions, such pigmies did they seem. The 
effect was very imposing ; by degrees, I allowed myself to 
advance — gazing above, around, and forwards; and of a 
truth, I felt that there could be religion expressed in a 
building. It is one of the few L temples made with 
hands ' that seem to me at all adequate to the conception 
— the dim light, the gigantic pillars, the heavenward 
bearing of all— shall I say the mystery and indefmiteness 
of the edifice ? — all pointed to that faith which is sub- 
lime yet lowly, revealed yet hidden. I was solemnized, 
tranquillized, awed, encouraged. . . . The structure is vast, 
and of solid marble — a quarry having been bequeathed 
for the purpose by one of its founders. Although so 
massive, it rises very clean from the ground, and has an 
air of particular lightness and elegance beyond all I have 
ever seen : no doubt this is greatly owing to its vast 
number of tall sky-pointing minarets, from one extremity 
of the roof to the other, while the tower is likewise girdled 
and surmounted by them. Each of these is surmounted 
by a full-length figure, angel or saint ; and the effect of 
this in white marble, seen against a clear light-blue sky, 
is altogether indescribable. There are also what I, in my 
ignorance of architectural terms, would call festoons of 
marble sculpture and tracery, at regular intervals athwart 



232 



MEMORIALS OF 



the roof and rising above it, through which the bright 
sky is also visible, so that nothing is wanting to give 
airiness to the architecture. From its foundation till now, 
it has never been without scaffolding in some quarter or 
other, having been brought thus gradually to its present 
state, which is not even yet that of completion. Is not 
this fact, which applies to so many cathedrals, significant 
of the religion itself, which, so far from having yet com- 
pleted its part in the world and being now effete, has not 
yet, I verily believe, reached the climax of its wonderful 
and awful destinies?" 

From Milan he thus wrote Mr. A. Burn Murdoch : — 

" Milan, Sept. 3. 
" ... By this time, indeed long ere this, you will have 
been speaking your mother tongue without compunction, 
enjoying the dear delights of home in the happiest country 
on the face of the earth. In some respects I could envy 
you, but my destiny carries me yet southwards, and pro- 
longs my absence from all my heart loves. I trust to 
hear in your next of still further amendment in your 
mother's health, of your happy meeting with them all, 
and of your own doings since your arrival. For me you 
will be happy to hear that I have had very very great 
enjoyment, so much so that I am humbled as well as 
overpowered with gratitude, when I think of my very 
great unworthiness. The Lord has not forsaken me, I 
have reason to believe, but has been near me and about 
me. ... that you were with me, my dear Christian 
friend ! There are, of course, hours of loneliness, when 
even the neighbourhood of one we love is agreeable and 
cheering ; however, God has otherwise ordered — I hope 
and believe for the best. . . . May God bless you and keep 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



233 



yon. and direct all your future ways ! How good He is, and 
condescending to our littleness and infirmities ! I am per- 
suaded we cannot too much treat Him as a friend; and the 
more we do so. the greater our reverence as well as our 
intimacy. Were it not for this faith, the world would be 
a wilderness in spite of the kind hearts it contains. I 
think of past times, last winter, with great pleasure, and I 
trust we may he allowed to recall them some day when 
the harness is on our hack, and we are fighting, like good 
soldiers of Jesus Christ, the battle which is fought for 
peace and love. — Yours,' 7 &c. 

" Sept. 4. — [Milan; Church of Santa Maria — Picture 
of Last Supper/ The outline and form of the figures is 
still as Leonardo drew them. Our Saviour is the most 
perfect remains ; and immediately the attention is con- 
centrated on Him as it ought to be — such divinity, such 
gentleness, such majesty of sorrow ! not in anger has He 
said it. but in regret. The idea of placing this figure in 
front of a window, opening out on Palestine and the un- 
sullied sky. assists to throw out the figure in relief, and 
forms a fine setting, so to speak, for that calm ineffable 
form. Xext Judas is brought into notice, and while neither 
regards the other, he may yet be said to confront the 
Saviour, so palpably has he taken the charge as personal. 
The contrast between the countenances is matchless — 
Judas is evidently stunned, bewildered by the discovery 
and exposure of his fearful guilt of heart : yet there is 
none of that assassin-look of knavery, so commonplace, 
which you see in many of the prints of it. Xo ; he is a 
thoroughly bad, unconverted man — a devil, who has all 
the time been wearing the garb of a disciple ; and now 
that, for the first time, the Saviour manifests that He 



234 



MEMORIALS OF 



knows him, and mildly alludes to his guilt — the effect is 
electric — he has no time and no nerve to get up cunning 
— he is paralysed. The variety of attitude and expres- 
sion is also wonderful ; they are in groups of three, and 
yet there is a perfect unity in the whole. Our Saviour 
has uttered the words, and all in consequence hang upon 
Him. As Wordsworth says : 4 There is a power in the 
picture' which no words can convey : it illustrates the 
Scripture account to you, and the effect upon the mind is 
religious and elevating, as it ought to be. 

44 1 liked the fellow's expression who showed us the 
picture (a Hungarian hussar), intelligent though daring ; 
and as he showed a desire to enter into conversation about 
it, I explained to him how Christ had given His body and 
blood for us, and urged him to put his confidence in Him, 
to seek a country in the skies which no man could take 
away. He seemed pleased that I should notice him, and 
invited me to come and see their stables and Hungarian 
horses, of which he was very proud. 

u Sept. 5. — (Thoughts on the summit of Milan Cathe- 
dral.) I fancied I could descry the dim outline of the 
Apennines to the south, as the sun veered in this direction, 
and dispelled the darkness — and the possibility of this 
was itself ravishing. Then, too, the thought that among 
these meadows were acted the Bucolics of Virgil, and that 
for them he wrote his Georgics — that there lived the 
Agricolse, whom he pronounced fortunati nimium sua in 
boyia novint — that there, above all, he was born himself, 
4 nourishing a youth sublime/ and meditating his future 
fame among these very woods and meads ! It was too much 
— and I sat down on the marble balustrade of the tower 
to indulge, as the cool breeze of morning fanned me, a 
long delicious reverie. I tried to realize the life of Virgil, 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



235 



his home, his parentage, his opportunities, his character, 
his genius. With what surprise in those days, with so 
few to imitate, must he have felt the first stirrings of his 
muse, not knowing perhaps what it well meant, unable 
to appreciate it, and with none to enlighten him, as we 
read of the first dawn of love in the soul of Max and 
Thekla. Then, too, his exquisite delight in falling upon 
Homer, Plato, and the Greeks ; his fragments carried to 
the river-side, and conned till they were made his own ; 
his yearning desire, early formed, and long, perhaps 
hopelessly cherished, of visiting that glorious land, and 
weeping for joy, and yearning over the monuments of 
the Greeks ; further on, his translation to Borne, the boy 
converted into man — formerly ardent and melancholy by 
turns, now refined, chastened, instructed in the 1 music 
of humanity ; 7 his friends at Rome, his patrons, especially 
among aristocratic ladies, but his soul all the while 
' dwelling apart/ like a star in the remote unpeopled 
heavens — unpeopled, that is, to common eye, but richly 
peopled with the invisible ; the terms on which he and 
Horace must have lived, deeply respecting each other ; 
but Horace, regarding Virgil as a superior spirit, awed 
by his gentleness, and feeling that, though poets both, 
they had nothing in common ; in fact, at this stage, it is 
difficult to regard Yirgil living — he is already 'apotheosed/ 
bound, if you will, in quarto vellum, with annotations and 
commentary. What a luxury to have been with him in 
his visit to Greece, and heard his criticisms and expres- 
sions ! — if indeed he made any, which I doubt. A self- 
contained world revolves in its own orbit, and its satellites 
reflect light simply by gazing on its face. Compare with 
all this the life and character of Milton, his visit to Italy 
and Virgil's tomb, and see there the spirit with whom 



236 



MEMORIALS OF 



he could hold communion, athwart all intervening ob- 
jects and ages. i Most musical, most melancholy,' such 
thoughts ! 

" Sept. 6. — (University of Pa via.) I paced the cloisters, 
and regarded the tablets on their walls to the most dis- 
tinguished of her professors, with no common emotion s. 
Here was one of the earliest seats of learning opened in 
Europe, prior, it is said, even to the time of Charlemagne. 
And then, too, although only a private in the ranks, I 
have a sympathy for learning and all its accompaniments, 
and know so much of College life myself, that I could not 
but feel I was standing on the most familiar spot I had 
yet visited in Italy. Feelings of home came over me, 
and as the students passed me, there was a free-masonry 
of look between us, clad as I was in an academic blouse 
that spoke volumes, and was equivalent to an introduc- 
tion. How truly is it called the Eepublic of Letters ! 
The students, with a characteristic difference of dress, 
were but a modification of the great genus, admitting, 
I should think, of the usual division of reading and 
rowing men. The vision of Oxford rose before my eyes 
— here Broad Street, or rather I should say, High Street ; 
behind, the Ticino, for the Isis, hastening to join the Po 
or Thames ; the University, one of her many colleges, 
and the students going down for non-term. Again, I felt 
so much at home that it required a struggle ever and 
anon to realize I was at Pavia. There were even about the 
hotel, where I was waiting for my voiture, some of those 
old servants of the place, with wits sharpened by the 
intercourse with the students, and a certain sympathy for 
them, which you find at the English Universities. One 
of these, with a mixture of respect and bantering, began 
to twit me for not having gone to visit the Certosa in the 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



237 



neighbourhood of Pavia, about four miles distant — the 
Blenheim of Oxford. He talked of what I might and 
should have done, as if to a rich young blade of a student 
money were no concern. I knew that the Certosa is very 
gorgeous — Murray says as much ; but somehow I have 
been so often disappointed, and have so little heart for 
these garish, comparatively modern, Eoman Catholic edi- 
fices, that I did not feel enthusiasm enough to go — this 
too, added to the heat of the day, and the probable ex- 
pense of a carriage, which I should have required. It 
may seem strange, but I seek feelings more than facts 
and actual statistics in my travels. What ! not see the 
Museum of Natural History ; this, that, and the other 
thing in the University and town ! for what, then, did 
you go to Pavia all the way ? I answer, I was satisfied 
and amply rewarded. The question is like that of the 
mathematician who read Milton, and asked what it proved. 
On the fields of Marathon and Bannockburn are to be 
seen but bare rocks or corn fields, yet they are visited 
from afar ; and the imagination has a feast, if imagina- 
tion there exist. For facts, then, and statistics, consult 
Murray, and not me. . . . We got under way. The evening- 
was peculiarly balmy ; our road lay through some of the 
richest pasturages in Lombardy ; darkness for a time 
invested us, through which distant lights appeared, giving 
one to suppose that cottage life was not unknown among 
those extensive plains. Soon, however, the moon arose 
in her wonted splendour, and the landscape was revealed 
in fictitious beauty. After talking to my fellow-travellers 
to nearly the same effect as to my student at the inn, 
I fell into a reverie, which it would be vain to attempt 
to commit to paper. Italy and Scotland — where I had 
dreamed of Italy — were mysteriously blended. My spirit 



238 



MEMORIALS OF 



was sometimes in one, sometimes in the other. One of 
these flashes of surprise came across me that I was really 
here ; and yet with all its romance, and the delicious 
softness of the night air I was inhaling, there seemed 
no discrepancy in thinking of old Scotland as equally 
romantic, if not even more so than where I now was. 
Those scenes of beauty that I know — that society of 
which I have tasted, with Italian song, river-sides, starry 
nights, shady walks, gardens and flowers, formed a nose- 
gay to the soul, as sweet as any I was now enjoying. 
Dangerous both, if the soul rise not to God, and experi- 
ence its chief, attempered, and all-pervading satisfaction 
in Him. This mine has not always done, but I now 
sought to do it. 

44 Sept. 7. — (Lodi.) He (a young Austrian officer) 
requested we should sleep together ; and as it was but 
for a few hours, I consented. My practice of kneeling 
before going to rest surprised him ; but he admitted it 
was good, and I put the duty of it afterwards to him in 
as strong a position as I could. 

44 Sept. 8. — (Piacenza.) Immediately before me the 
broad full-shining Po, one of the four or five monarchs of 
European rivers, which the fancy is prepared to welcome 
with a thrill of emotion. On its southern bank, a little 
to the eastward of where I was standing, Piacenza, most 
picturesquely situated, with an unusual abundance of 
minaret, dome, and tower for a Lombard city ; the dark 
stone spire of the Cathedral, in particular, gave character 
to the pictorial effect of the town. Lastly, behind the 
town, and skirting the whole southern horizon from east 
to west, the beautiful outline of the Apennines, ridge over 
ridge, fold within fold, here a peak, there a dome, with 
soft but variegated lights on their various parts, as you 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



239 



see on many of the bonny hills of Scotland. This associ- 
ation, their intrinsic beauty, together with the surprise of 
coming upon mountains after the dreary plains of Lom- 
bardy, filled me with delight, I may say intoxicated me. 
I lingered long and drank the spectacle ; the desolate 
beauty of Placentia, which seemed as if it had lost its 
way upon those forlorn banks — the river itself, fringed 
with willows and sand, rolling on in its dreary channel, 
a was re though fertilizing all around — smote my soul 
with one of those notes of melancholy which are pro- 
found but not unpleasing. I followed its 4 wild and 
willowy shore' for a considerable way beyond Placentia, 
until I reached the appropriately forlorn and rickety 
bridge of boats by which the highroad crosses it. No- 
thing, in truth, could be more in keeping or more signi- 
ficant of the departed grandeur of Placentia. With such 
emotions I entered the town, and found my way to the 
hotel. 

" Sunday, Sejrt. 9. — I entered the Cathedral towards 
dusk. There is nothing in it particularly to arrest the 
attention or elevate the thoughts : but mine were for the 
moment independent of outward aids — and sitting down 
with my book of Psalms in hand. I turned my soul towards 
Him, the events of whose marvellous life, from the cradle 
to the tomb, were portrayed around me. I cannot say 
that in general those pictures or frescoes, however good, 
awake devotion in my mind. This may be the defect of 
habit, or that the aesthetic predominates in regarding 
them ; or that, among so many, the soul has not time for 
an operation so absorbing and profound as that of devo- 
tion. Be this as it may, excepting by the Supper of a 
Leonardo, or the Crucifixion of a Guido — for which, besides 
their being masterpieces, you give yourself time and scope 



240 



MEMORIALS OF 



for religious musings — I have rarely felt myself sanctified 
in Italian churches. To-night, however, all was dim 
excepting to the spiritual eye, and the marvellous love 
and work of Him who Himself purged our sins, and 
wrought out a righteousness for His people, shone out 
with peculiar lustre. No wonder that, when the tide of 
genius first flowed in its various channels since the con- 
version of the world to Christianity, this should be the 
all-absorbing topic of its efforts, whether on canvas or in 
verse. — My Saviour, I am Thine, and I desire to appro- 
priate the prayer, 4 One thing have I desired of the Lord 
— that will I seek after ; that I may dwell in the house 
of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty 
of the Lord, and to inquire in His temple.' Under many 
aspects, there is much to be said in favour of these solemn 
cathedrals — calm retreats for the thirsty soul amid the 
bustle of the world, and using them as Oratoires or places 
of meditation. I have often of late felt their power, and 
been greatly indebted to them. that error could be 
kept apart from good, so that good might not have to 
be sacrificed to error ! 

" Sept. 12. — (Mantua.) I turned my steps northward, 
and, passing the Piazza Virgiiiana — a grove of trees 
overhanging the Mincio, and commanding from the 
northern rampart a fine view of the hills of Brescia, and 
the Lake of Garda — I reached the Verona Gate and the 
Bridge of the Mills. From this point upon the Mincio, 
I enjoyed a fine sweep of its smooth-flowing waters, blue 
and fresh, gently rippled by the breath of evening, and 
reflecting on their bosom the glowing western heavens ; 
wild lovely reeds and willows fringed its banks in vast 
numbers ; and as I gazed towards the hills of the north- 
ern and southern horizon, then at sunset, then at the 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



241 



classic Mincio, I could not but feel that Virgil had had 
every advantage which a poet need have, in regard to 
the scenes with which his youth was conversant. The 
thought that he had actually gazed upon those waters, 
and gathered inspiration and expansion of soul from 
contemplating those far-off mountains, was thrilling to 
my spirit, and more than rewarded me for my pilgrimage 
to Mantua. Satisfied that 4 the boy is father of the man/ 
and that the impressions of youth affect the whole after 
tone and character of the mind, I was anxious to see the 
moulders of the vis Virgilii ; and now that I have seen 
them, I think that I can better comprehend that glorious 
spirit. What ideas of life, of solitude, of melancholy, must 
he have learned from the lonely wandering Mincio ; what 
yearnings, what desires from the bounding mountains ! 
To the north, an unknown mysterious world, serving for 
eternity ; to the south, the hills that separated him from 
Eome — the earthly heaven and idol of every Eoman. I 
confess that in the tame plains of Lombardy I had yet 
seen, I could not fancy a Virgil being reared, but Mantua 
will do — nay, Shakspere upon Avon, with the Severn for 
his muse, was not better off. 

" Sept 13. — (Parma.) My heart lingered at Mantua, 
and never was lover torn from lover with more regret. 
The coolness diffused around by the extensive fresh-water 
lakes was regaling. The town itself stately, old-fashioned, 
and as it were consecrated to the memory of one of the 
triumvirate of matchless poets. I should like to have 
again visited the very site of Virgil's birth, and, his 
Georgics and Bucolics in hand, to have repeopled their 
pastures and corn fields with his shepherds and husband- 
men ; comparing scenery with description, and meditat- 
ing on the time when the very swains and their sweet 

Q 



242 



MEMORIALS OF 



hearts participated in the dignity of the masters of the 
world. The willow groves and slimy reeds are still the 
same — marshes diffuse coolness and prevent contagion- 
apples, pears, grapes, and chestnuts are still the fruits 
with which one shepherd might regale another ; but the 
spirit of liberty is gone — the Italians are the conquered, 
not the conquerors ; and in another sense from what Vir- 
gil meant, it might be exclaimed — 

' En, quo discordia cives 

Produxit miseros ! ' 

Mantua shall linger in my memory while I live, and it is 
perhaps the first place in Italy which I have seen as yet 
that I should wish to visit again before I die. 

" I met a Venetian lady and her little boy. She had 
been there during all the horrors of the siege, when they 
were reduced to eat bread of the coarsest description, and 
provisions of any kind sold at a ruinous expense. She 
said they would have held out still longer against the 
Austrians, but the ravages of cholera appalled them into 
submission. She had some coins and paper money of the 
young republic, with one of which — a fifteen cent piece, 
she presented me. I felt much interested in her from 
her countenance of beauty, and expression of deep-seated 
melancholy; and the kindly feeling seemed mutual, for 
she requested me to give her my memorandum-book, in 
which she inserted her name and address at Venice, in- 
viting me, when there, to go and see her and her family. 
It was somewhat novel to me, however, to see her deliber- 
ately smoke two cigars — a lady, too, very nicely dressed, 
and with all the softness and delicacy of a lady. . . . 

" Another character, in truth, both English, or rather 
Irish, and Italian — was a Count Magauley (Macaulay) 
Perati — his father an Irishman, his mother Italian, he 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



243 



hhnself married also to a Venetian. It seems his family 
had long ago been expatriated from Ireland, and their 
estates confiscated. They had come to Parma, where his 
father had been minister to the Duke, and he himself cham- 
berlain to the Duchess ; he had served for a good many 
years in the Austrian service, and was now a half-pay cap- 
tain of cavalry. Although he now knew Italian better 
than English, not having been home for twenty-six years, 
I found him a true Irishman for courtesy and kindness. 
We repaired together to a cafe, where I was served with 
excellent coffee in a tumbler, and butter brought in fresh 
from market upon a vine-leaf. By and bye our carriage 
started, and, passing some interesting little towns through 
a fine dry open country abounding with beautiful vines, 
we reached at last the banks of the Po, at Casalmaggiore. 
A charming cool breeze played about us on the way ; and 
altogether the climate, as well as the country, appeared 
to have undergone a most agreeable change. How I 
welcomed the sight of autumn upon the leaves, as a 
symptom that the sun had now spent its force, and also as 
the prelude to that universal garb of decay which I can- 
not but think the most appropriate for Italy. The breeze 
sighed through the willow groves, as Yirgil has so often 
melodiously described it, and the vines no longer stuck up- 
right in whole fields, as in France and Switzerland, and 
gracefully wedded to the manly elms between which they 
form the most beautiful festoons and tresses; the jet black 
clusters hanging lusciously among the leaves wherever 
the eye might happen to turn. The bulk of the field is 
thus devoted to corn or other produce, while the vines are 
there as it were unbidden. 

" Nothing could exceed the beauty of the afternoon 
and evening. The line of the Apennines appeared 



244 



MEMORIALS OF 



stretched out before us. I had not seen so joyous, so 
bright a glow on the face of the country since leaving 
Switzerland. There was much to remind me indeed of 
merry England — tasteful clean cottages and farm stead- 
ings, cows grazing in herds, and now and then a milk- 
maid sitting beneath, and drawing their distended udders ; 
peasants returning from the vintage — everywhere appa- 
rently happiness and peace. My companion could give 
me much information on all matters, political and agricul- 
tural. Although an Irishman and an Italian, he greatly 
condemned the Eevolution, as brought about by dema- 
gogues who would have proved more grinding and selfish 
tyrants than any foreign power. Before all was prosperity, 
now all was the reverse. Society was broken up, beg- 
gary induced where affluence had once reigned, and the 
breach between governor and governed irreparably widened. 
The tenants of Parma, as well as generally in Lombardy, 
obtain a nine years' lease, with a break to either party at 
the end of each three years. In Parma, the landlord 
advances capital on security. The Dukes and Duchesses 
have shown themselves munificent benefactors ; but the 
people about them are largely composed of knaves, so that 
works undertaken for the public good have in most cases 
been miserably executed, and their funds diverted into 
private channels. Alas for Italy ! this want of honesty 
and public faith, which was the harbinger of her downfal, 
is still one of the most certains signs of her inability to 
rise again. Punica fides must now be turned to their 
opponents. 

" Sept. 14. — I repaired to the Farnese Palace, and there 
saw its very interesting little collection of paintings, 
especially Corregio's. Several of these — the Madonna 
and Child, with St. Jerome, an angel, and the Magdalene 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



245 



kissing the feet of the child ; also the Taking Down from 
the Cross, are justly celebrated. The first is really per- 
fect in design and colouring. Although so many centuries 
old, and having been one of the first pictures which the 
French removed to Paris, it is still bright and fresh as 
when it issued from Corregio's hand. I admire him 
always for his perfect command of colouring, his know- 
ledge of harmony, and the secret of durability ; but often, 
as in the second picture I have mentioned, he fails greatly 
in the conception of characters. There are also some 
Caraccis, Titians, Quercinos, and Francias of great beauty; 
one a Transfiguration ascribed to Raphael, besides several 
of the Dutch school. 

k> Sunday. Sept. 16. — Spent the forenoon in meditation 
and prayer, dwelling on the mystery of Him who, though 
rich, for our sakes became poor, and gave Himself a 
ransom for us ; who now liveth for evermore the friend 
and shepherd of His people ! 

u Sept. 18. — 'The Apennines.) The summit of the pass 
was wild enough — a high wind blew ; wherever the eye 
might turn appeared brown mountain-tops and moorlands, 
not unlike some of out grouse country in Scotland ; but — 
shall I say it — inferior to it, vastly and in every respect. 
Only the association of the Apennines turned the scale, 
and furnished to the soul whatever might be lacking to 
the eye. I paced on, elevated by this grand idea. My 
thoughts reverted at this — a fresh epoch in my extensive 
tour — to the happy days of my residence at Geneva, and 
the many friends I had there known. The thought of 
each was tender, and merged insensibly into prayer, 
while my heart was full of gratitude to Him who had so 
highly favoured me, not only there, but since I set out on 
my present travels, and committed myself as it were, 



246 



MEMORIALS OF 



peculiarly to His care. Although there are many who, 
from natural capacity, might profit more from such oppor- 
tunities as I now enjoy ; yet, I trust, Lord, what I see 
and feel shall not be lost in Thy service, in what time and 
way Thou seest fit to employ it. 

" Sept 19. — (Florence.) The sun had not yet risen, 
but all the east gave token of his coming, and the green 
waving woods that clothed the opposite hills were illu- 
mined with a glow quite preternatural. Far off, in front 
of me, rose the round brown back of a mountain that 
might have looked down on the Findhorn, or any other 
Highland stream. The valley through which I sped was 
filled with the most luxuriant vegetation, vineyards, olive- 
rows, and corn fields ; while the descending slopes were 
crowned and dotted over with cottages and chateaus of 
uncommon whiteness. I breakfasted at the end of a 
winding and wilder glen, and then prepared to cross the 
last ridge that separated between me and Florence. 

" The summit gained, I confess that the view on the 
farther side was by no means what I had expected. In- 
stead of an extensive and luxuriant plain, clearly outlined 
by the Apennines, and through which the Arno wound, 
with Florence on its banks, and every variety of broken 
knoll along its course, there was a wide and undulating 
mountain -district, hills stretching in all directions, the 
Arno barely traceable by a denuded course that looked 
as if it had once formed the basin of a lake ; numerous 
clusters of villages that did not look picturesque from so 
great a height, and a brown-mountain character over all. 
Florence lay before me with its remarkable and majestic 
dome, and. no lack of other domes and towers — but it 
appeared small to my expectations ; and the foliage with 
which on all sides it was invested, from the preponderance 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



247 



of willows, bore a whitish aspect, instead of that depth of 
green which the promising name of Florence indicated. 
There was much, however, to transport the soul, and, in 
particular, a far-stretching line of ethereal mountains that 
bore away towards Kome, and which is one of those ob- 
jects in nature that never fails to captivate me, like the 
sea or distant music, or anything that speaks of the in- 
finite and undefined. 

M I passed through the antique gate, presenting my 
passport on the way, and then traversed a long line of 
street, extending nearly to the Arno. It was very curi- 
ously paved, with flags of irregular shape, but all fitting 
into each other, over which carriages run with great light- 
ness ; and, I should suppose, horses would fall with equal 
ease. At first the traffic was not considerable, but, as I 
approached the dome, the thoroughfare became very gay 
and crowded. Besides the artisans and those engaged in 
business, there were great numbers of elegantly dressed 
ladies and handsome men; altogether, such an air of life 
and happiness as I had not seen since entering Italy. 
The shops, with their tempting display of goods, delighted 
me ; and my passing glance at the Cathedral filled me 
with quite novel sensations. It is a vast structure cased 
in marble of various colours, so as to present a most rare 
and picturesque effect, — and then its gorgeous dome ! but 
of this hereafter. I pushed on a little further through an 
increasingly gay and crowded thoroughfare to the Piazza 
di Gran Duca, where was the office of my Diligence. I 
found it easily, and, while waiting for the facehino to 
carry my baggage, amused myself with regarding the 
passers-by. The ladies of Florence undoubtedly carry 
the palm over any I have yet seen ; they are very fair 
and pretty, and exquisitely dressed. Then, too, the 



248 



MEMORIALS OF 



sumptuous sky above, and the cool breeze that tempered 
the noonday heat, and enabled one to enjoy the bright- 
ness of the sun without his fierceness ; marble statues 
that graced the farther side of the square, and smart 
dashing equipages that passed and repassed with officers 
in uniform, or the aristocracy of Florence, — all gave 
me such an idea of the fulness and brilliancy of Italian 
life, as to act like an opiate on the senses. 

u In the afternoon I sallied out, and was again en- 
chanted with the marvellously transparent and crystal sky 
above — certainly unlike any I have seen in more north- 
ern climes — and the bewitching purity and elasticity of the 
air. I then visited the dome, and after again admiring 
its superb cupola — the design of Brunelleschi, and the 
largest in the world, not excepting St. Peter's — I entered, 
and was struck with the great simplicity of the internal 
arrangements. An altar, enclosed with a marble rail and 
seats, is placed beneath the dome, without any elevation ; 
and here priests and choristers were chanting the evening 
service. All the rest of the church is quite open — the 
cupola is frescoed with a very multitudinous subject, 
and the windows that stud it, as well as those of the 
Cathedral generally, are fitted with beautiful and deep 
stained glass. I regarded the few monuments and paint- 
ings without particularizing ; I then visited the Baptis- 
tery, and a separate and octagonal marble edifice at the 
south-west corner of the Cathedral. Its gates are the 
pride of Florence, and, as Dante says, might serve for 
Paradise. The campanile or belfry of the Cathedral is 
also a gigantic building, rising to the height of 275 feet, 
and cased in parti- coloured marble like the church. 

" Committing myself now to hazard, I took a street lead- 
ing to the west, and followed the frequent carriages which 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



249 



all left the town by the Porto al Prato. I did so too, 
and found a beautifully- wooded avenue conducting to the 
Cascine. Along this I paced, admiring the terminus of 
the Pisa Kailway on my right, and wondering whither 
the innumerable carriages, with gaily-dressed ladies and 
their knights, that overtook me on the way, could be 
tending. At last the sound of music reached my ears, 
and sood I discovered carriages, horses, and other equi- 
pages drawn up in front of a circle, where a very power- 
ful military band was discoursing most eloquent music. 
I joined the throng, had ample opportunity of remarking 
the beauty and vivacity of the fair Florentines, and the 
attention of their squires ; the latter, however, are as far 
inferior in outward appearance to the gentlemen of Lom- 
bardy, as the ladies of Florence are superior to those of 
the north. The glorious purpled sunset on the Apennines, 
and the rising of a silver crescent moon, pleased me more 
than all ; and thinking with satisfaction of the time, not 
long ago, when it might have been the reverse, and my 
heart would have been filled with mere dreams of romance 
on seeing the pride of chivalry and beauty, — I retraced my 
steps to the town when the music had ceased, glad that 
I had become wiser, if not better, through increasing years. 
The moon was shining, as in a dioramic picture, behind 
the dome of a convent on the farther side of the river, as 
I stood for a moment on the bridge beside my hotel, and 
then retired to sleep within sound of the rushing Arno. My 
first day at Florence has taken my whole heart by storm. 

"Sept. 21.— (Galileo's Tower.) Through a farm- 
house now attached to the tower, I gained admission, and 
climbed to the top by means of a stair and ladder. The 
view from it towards Florence and up Yaldamo is superb. 
The town is expanded before you in nearly all its ampli- 



250 



MEMORIALS OF 



tude ; the dome and campanile from here assuming a 
yellow hue, instead of its actual chequering. Santa Croce 
beneath you, second only to the cathedral ; and that deeply 
stirring Fiesole directly opposite, the cradle of Florence, 
and the witness of so many successive civilisations. Be- 
yond and above it, on the far heights of the Apennines, 
a solitary and apparently massive convent ; to the right, 
the Arno stealing from its hills, and its vale illustrated by 
so many sanctuaries ; behind and around you, the thickly 
wooded, undulating country, richly studded with villas, 
churches, and convents. At six, I repaired to Meyer's 
lodgings at the Ponte Vecchio, where I had sought him in 
the morning, but unsuccessfully ; and this time I had the 
infinite satisfaction of once more embracing a friend. He 
gave me much interesting information, of his journey by 
Turin, Genoa, Massa, and Pisa ; the latter part — along 
the shores of the Mediterranean — of surprising loveliness ; 
of his visit to the valleys of Piedmont, and his interview 
with the admirable General Beckevith, and some of the 
pastors. 

" Sept. 22. — On the way (to the exhibition of modern 
paintings) I learned from the Count Guiciardinio — who by 
the way is a Plymouthist in his opinions, but a liberal one 
— how little he confided in the late popular movement and 
its leaders, Mazzini and the rest, for effecting any whole- 
some regeneration in the civil and political state of Italy, 
far less in the religious. He looked upon the ringleaders 
as ambitious, unprincipled men. He thinks good may 
result from the Bibles that have been circulated, at least 
in individual cases ; and that a persecution for the truth 
would be one of the best things that could happen to 
awaken inquiry, &c. . . . 

" Went to the gallery. I should give Corregio the palm 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



251 



for colouring ; Titian for voluptuousness and truthfulness ; 
M. Angelo for boldness and mastery of form ; Baphael 
for softness, sentiment, and a combination of all the other 
graces. Though excelled by others in individual point, 
I think he is the youthful king of painters. 

" Sunday, Sept. 23. — On going out, had some conver- 
sation with my landlady on religious subjects, about which 
I found her sadly indifferent. I pressed upon her the 
value of her soul, the marvellous love of God claiming 
ours in return, and the necessity of preparing for the 
life to come. She seemed affected for the moment. 
... I made my way to the English Chapel in the Yia 
Maglio. Admission to the body cost two or three pauls, 
but there were free seats in the gallery ; and not liking 
this mode of paying for admittance to the house of God, 
I went up stairs, and gave my subscription afterwards for 
the poor. The seats were very comfortable, and the 
audience few and select enough. Below, there was a fair 
sprinkling of Englishers, and some ladies apparently, 
perhaps the family of the clergyman, played the organ 
and led the music in my neighbourhood. The pastor, a 
Mr. , preached a Florentine sermon against dis- 
traction during divine service from g'iddy thoughts about 
fashion, dress, and the like ; choosing for his text the verse 
in Job where Satan presents himself among the sons of 
God. I enjoyed the liturgy, with its home-coming prayers 
and sweet associations, as much as heart could wish ; also 
the psalm-singing in this land of unintelligible worship ; 
the sermon I heard with the hundredth part of one ear, 
and was contented. If he had mentioned Faesulaa and 
the cities of Etruria among the subjects which might 
cause distraction, he would have found me out ; but poor 
man ! the lace bonnets and bouquets filled his eye. 



252 



MEMORIALS OF 



" Sept. 25. — At eight called with Meyer on M. Cre- 
mieux ; heard that Captain Pakenbam, the agent for the 
Bible Society here, had got notice from the Government 
to quit immediately, for his zeal in Protestant propa- 
gandism. He is a fine frank English sailor, it seems, 
utterly devoid of fear ; and they admit he went to ex- 
tremes, rising little prudence, and offering the Bible to 
the priests themselves without scruple. 

" Sept. 26. — Excessively tired, I retraced my steps 
homeward, sitting long by the way upon the Ponte S. 
Trinita to enjoy the cool breeze, the moonshine and lights 
upon the river. It was one of those tranquil moments, 
when, after the mind has been long engrossed with out- 
ward and present things, we suddenly get a vivid retro- 
spect of the past, and see deeply into the life of things, 
realizing our position as living among the living. How 
insensible are we in general to the life around us, which 
thus flashes at times upon the notice of the spirit like 
the aerial hosts to the Jewish prophet. 

" Sept. 28. — (Fiesole.) The most interesting point 
is just behind the Cathedral, where we were shown 
the scanty remains of an amphitheatre, with five caves 
that once opened into it, and which we now entered 
by a passage cut from one to the other. They were 
evidently employed as dens for the wild animals, and a 
hole in the roof of each served to convey them their food. 
We passed from one to the other, sometimes crawling on 
all-fours, and familiarizing ourselves with the thought 
that here wild beasts actually fed in the great but cruel 
days of old. A very remarkable portion of the ancient 
Etruscan wall still remains of Cyclopan architecture, that 
is composed of vast blocks of rock, in this case cut so as 
to present a regular and even outline. No words can 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



253 



describe the interest of those existing memorials of a state 
of things prior to the aggrandizement, perhaps to the 
foundation of Borne. 

•• Sunday, Sept. 30.— (Florence.) Grateful the repose of 
Sabbath ! No son of toil ever welcomed more its immunity 

d care. After the incessant sight-seeing of the past 
week, leaving so little time for the closet, I hailed this 
day even from afar, as the Psalmist does in some of his as- 
pirations. From the time I rose, my thoughts were turned 
inwards and heavenwards, and strove after that union and 
communion with God in Christ, which is the health and 
happiness of His people. Alas ! it is not easy to attain 
to this, when the mind has been for a time dissipated ; yet 
sweet and refreshing was the meditation I had while it 
was yet morning with nature and with me. About eight 
I heard the swell of magnificent music in the Church of 
Santa Spirito opposite my window ; and going out soon 
afterwards, I found an Austrian regiment ranged in 
double file the whole length of either aisle, in one of the 
largest churches of Florence. The men wore their caps 
and shouldered their bayonets, but at the ringing of a 
bell during mass, suddenly every head was uncovered, 
and every knee bent on the pavement of the church. A 
numerous congregation filled the nave, and did likewise. 
Towards the conclusion of the service, as in the middle, 
the fine military band, stationed near the choir, chimed 
in with pealing music, wmich sounded and resounded 
through the lengthened aisles like the symphonies of 
heaven. The anthem was familiar to me, and nothing 
could be grander than the general effect. After service 
at nine, the men were marched out — their orders being 
shouted through the church — the band struck up, and 
they tiled off to their respective quarters. Military wor- 



254 



MEMORIALS OF 



ship more imposing, and, if possible, more unintelligent 
than that of ordinary Catholics. 

" To the English service : sweet church, and the sound 
of those lovely prayers and portions read in a clear, im- 
pressive English voice, affected me powerfully. L How 
amiable are Thy tabernacles, Lord of hosts !''... Groping 
after a new heart and a change of nature ; but feeling, 
alas ! sadly, my coldness and unworthiness, my inability 
to help myself, and my deep need of the Holy Spirit's 
teaching. My present mode of life, and the relaxing 
climate of these few days, is not favourable to religious 
life ; but Thou, whose I am and whom I serve, inter- 
pose, as Thou hast so often clone, and recall me to Thy 
feet, and deep devotion ! Hear, Lord, hear, for I am 
vile ; but Thy goodness and condescension are infinite ! 

u Oct. 1. — (Vallombrosa.) On crossing the stream, a 
noble forest of walnuts and other trees appeared before 
us, extending upwards a considerable w T ay, and completely 
covering one side of the glen. This we entered, and by a 
paved zig-zag road gradually wound up the hill. Heather, 
moss, and broom were plentiful on either side, and ripe 
brambles, the first I have eaten out of Scotland and the 
north of England. As we ascended, the rich green of the 
walnut was exchanged for solemn groves of pine, through 
which the wind sighed in familiar accents, filling my soul 
with the memory of the past. At length, at the end of 
a longish avenue, the Convent came in sight — a long 
white building, with a low wall in front, and surrounded 
by a tower. Higher up, on a very abrupt rock to the 
left of the convent, gleamed the smaller tenement of 
Paradasnio ; while behind and around, in a semicircle, 
rose the summit of the mountain clothed with black firs, 
as well as oaks and beeches, on which autumn had already 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



255 



stamped the tale of the declining year. . . . We anruserl 
ourselves in conversing on Napoleon and his wars, until 
sleep reminded us of bed about nine o'clock. We joined 
in worship, and then retired to our respective rooms 
leading off the great corridor ; mine was most comfortable. 
I threw open the casement, and enjoyed a long time the 
cool breeze that gently agitated the pines, the mountain 
odours, the noise of tumbling water that broke or enhanced 
the surrounding silence. The little world of this upland 
solitude had gone to rest. Some friar, perhaps, still con- 
tinued his devotions in seclusion ; but spiritual beings 
seemed to me to people the air in a sanctuary so charm- 
ing, where all the freshness of spring and Scotland was 
islanded amid the sultry vales of Italy. 

" Tuesday, Oct. 2. — A delicious bed, and repose most 
balmy. On awaking, the profound silence struck me, as it 
has sometimes done at Gedcles on first coming there after 
the noise of town. Looking from my window, the gray 
mists of dawn, the sombre hill, and dripping grass and 
pines, reminded me powerfully of many a morning in the 
Highlands of the hallowed country. I dressed rapidly ; 
but found, on trying to get out, that we were prisoners at 
discretion — the great convent door being closed upon us. 
We had mentioned seven as the hour of breakfast, and 
the idea probably never entered our attendant's head, that 
we might wish to taste the mountain-air beforehand. 
With time, noise, and patience, however, we at last suc- 
ceeded in obtaining our freedom ; and oh ! how sweet 
that breath of morning, scented with the fir, the moss, the 
wet rocks and soil, where a tiny brook came tumbling 
from the mountains. Nothing more regaling has entered 
my soul since I crossed the Alps and entered Italy. We 
clambered up the hill-side, above the chapel ; the wood- 



256 



MEMORIALS OF 



men were felling and barking the tallest pines, while 
others were preparing for young ones. The meadow land 
in front of and beside the convent, showed so green be- 
side the dark forest that encircled it, and the plains and 
cities below afforded, by their contrast, a fresh charm to 
the peace and seclusion of the scene around. The day 
was fine, but mists were driving rapidly from the south, 
over the highest summits of the hills, revealing, ever and 
anon, through their shroud of gray, the tall pines and 
beeches that fringed the upper horizon. In returning to 
the convent, we agreed that a Sabbath here, where all 
was Sabbath, would be one of the most delightful things 
on earth ; and that memory might feed, and meditation 
might wander through long days and days in such a 
spot without weariness, without distraction. Every open- 
ing glade tempted us to enter, every rising path to ascend 
the mountain, and when satiated here, we might cross 
the ridge and descend in the sources of the Arno and the 
Tiber, where other sanctuaries overhang the valleys. 

"Sunday, Oct. 7. — (Leghorn.) I directed my steps to 
the Scotch Church, at no great distance. In front were 
lingering some sailors and other unmistakeable country- 
men, as they are wont to do at home before entering. I 
accosted one, probably the skipper of a merchant vessel 
lading in the port, and with a little boy in his hand. He 
was from Bute, and spoke with seriousness of religion, and 
gratitude for the privilege of worship here accorded him. 
I found he had lost his wife after a short illness, from 
cholera, at Glasgow, last Christmas ; and that his little 
boy was an orphan. I said to him what I could to deepen 
his love to God and devotedness to Him. The front 
seats were prepared for the celebration of the Lord's 
Supper, after sermon. I valued highly the privilege of 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



257 



once more sitting down to the Lord's Table, more Scotlco. 
and among so many of my countrymen. 

" After service at two I was introduced to the vestry, 
and there made myself known to Mr. Stewart, and Mr. 
Win gate, the Jewish missionary, at present a fugitive 
from Pesth. and residing at Leghorn. The reception from 
both was very cordial. 

" Tuesday. Oct. 9. — I went out with Meyer, and to- 
gether we visited the graves of Smollett, Horner, and 
Martin — men how different ! and yet, now that death has 
made them neighbours in the tomb, each awakening a 
feeling of pensive thought and sadness. Smollett the 
gifted, Homer the upright. Martin the pious, each buried 
beneath an alien sky ; would that we could suppose each 
drawing to the other, and imparting to him what he had 
to give. 

u Xear this I again parted with dear Meyer, and left 
him desolate : returned to the inn. and found my English 
friend had gone back to the steamboat for Koine. I took 
the railway, and proceeded by Pisa to Pontedera. 

It is sad to part with friends, and almost balances the 
pleasure of meeting them. 

" Oct. 11. — Tolterra.; Returning to the town, we 
presented ourselves at the Museum, kept in the Hotel de 
ViUe, and where a canon of the town awaited our arrival, 
to show the room which contains the most valuable relics, 
and which cannot be seen except in his company. Here 
the collection of remains is indeed most admirable : but 
our opportunity of viewing them was rather hurried. All 
instruments used in sacrifices — the knife, the rake for 
tearing out the entrails, the patera of libation, and the 
bowl for receiving the blood, were there in order; mirrors, 
also clasps, bracelets, and other ornaments of attire ; 

R 



258 



MEMORIALS OF 



vases of all ages, gods, writing materials, rings, chains, 
horse gear ; instruments for the baths and the like, filled 
the drawers and shelves, from which a very faithful 
idea might be formed of the manners and customs of the 
Etrurians. In other chambers were inscriptions and 
statues, with an innumerable number of funeral urns, 
representing on their sides the Grecian mythology, le- 
gends, fancies, and other stories. Were the latter ar- 
ranged in order, they might throw light on the progress 
of art, as well on the origin and intercourse of the 
early Etrurians'. As it is, they corroborate Grecian story, 
and give a clue to the ideas, dress, and advancement of 
those ancient people. 

" Oct. 13. — (Sienna.) I went to see a private gallery 
of paintings in the Casa Sanacini, containing some good 
ones ; but what most struck me was a fresco in the 
Chapel, of the Crucifixion, where the countenance of our 
Lord's mother fainting at the foot of the cross, fairly 
added an idea to my mind. You could see there her who 
had treasured in her heart all the promises given of her 
Son, marked all His perfect life, felt His Divinity, and 
yet who now saw Him expiring on the cross. A sword 
had pierced through her own heart, and the agonized, 
bereaved, disappointed mother, is admirably depicted. I 
could have gazed at it for hours, so touching was it and 
so true. 

" Sunday, Oct. 14. — Another gloomy day ; threatening 
rain. After breakfast, to the Cathedral, where again ob- 
served the mass, the endless movements and genuflexions 
of the priests, and the devout bearing of the people. At 
a side-chapel I saw the wafers distributed to several com- 
municants. With much parade also, a priest, preceded 
by boys and candles, mounted the marble pulpit ; but in- 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



259 



stead of an address as I expected, he chanted a little, looking 
through his eye-glass, and then walked down again. Can 
it be that the people receive any nourishment, either to 
faith or reason, by all this next to dumb show '? The audi- 
ence would have astonished the worshippers of Milan or 
Florence, being greatly composed of shaggy men from the 
hills, with hairy faces, thick rough cloaks often of skins, 
and huge shoes covered with mud. 

" At half-past ten I set off for the railway terminus, about 
two miles from the town, at the extremity of a tunnel not 
yet completed. It was to be consecrated ; and being a 
religious service, I felt free to go. The way was covered 
with walkers and equipages of ail sorts. Kain, alas ! de- 
scended in torrents. On reaching the spot I was at first 
refused admittance to the covered stand ; but on telling 
the guard I was a stranger and an Englishman, I was 
allowed to pass. Soon the Grand Duke arrived with his 
suite, in handsome state carriages, and alighted close to 
where I was standing. He was dressed in the uniform of 
an Austrian general ; the Duchess looked well ; two boys 
in military imiform were with them, and their daughter, 
fair and rather pretty. The bishop and his suite were 
already on the spot ; an altar was erected on a bridge, span- 
ning the railway at the extremity of the tunnel. At the 
side of this stood the Grand Duke and his court, while 
in front the priests knelt, and muttered as usual. Below 
was a covered station, and several carriages tilled with 
those invited to make the trip to Empoli and back. A line 
of soldiers was stationed along either side of the railway, 
on the top of the bank— first Italians, and then Austri- 
ans ; two bands of the former played alternately. The 
bishop and priests descended to consecrate the carriages, 
I suppose ; then returned to the altar, and then redescended 



260 



MEMORIALS OF 



to take tlieir places in one. The Grand Duke and his 
suite also took their places, and after a series of shrill 
whistles, which greatly amused the Italians, the train 
moved on. The military and multitude returned to 
Sienna. 

" This commending of the railway to God and His pro- 
tection, with the acknowledgment of Him, in what with 
us is so entirely a secular affair of convenience and lucre, 
greatly pleases me ; though, of course, when so much 
festivity must he mingled with it, I should have pre- 
ferred another day for the purpose. Were I over critical, 
I might say that it is natural for Popery to seek to blend 
its influence with everything secular or spiritual, and that, 
as in education, it does so with the most baneful conse- 
quences ; but I am willing in the beginning of my scrutiny 
to admire good, when I see it, without too closely investi- 
gating motives. 

" Eeturning to the town, I dined ; and as it still rained, 
read with unusual delight and unction the last chapters 
of the Acts. The thought of Paul's being at Eome, after 
many longings, and there for two whole years preaching 
the gospel without let or hindrance, is a bright Christian 
souvenir amid so much that is intensely interesting but 
pagan. The waning year, the broken weather, the ex- 
perience of how long it takes to visit such monumental 
cities, as well as the distance of Berlin, and the multitude 
of sights between — all concur on forcing on me the idea 
that I must make up my mind to winter at Rome. I do not, 
however, regard this as fixed ; but seek with singleness 
of heart to know the Lord's will in the matter, assured 
that, insignificant as I am, He orders all my goings. Lord 
Jesus, whose I am and whom I serve, dispose my heart 
and will as Thou seest good, and never leave me, never 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



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forsake me ! Amid the gloominess of the day, and my 
loneliness in this place, I have not felt desolate — the Lord 
drawing near to me more than usually. I have dwelt 
with much endearment on His life on earth and His 
future reign, reading the Gospel of St. Luke. How sweet, 
too, is the recollection of past mercies and happiness ! My 
home and my dear mother, Geneva, Meyer, and the ser- 
vices and friends of last Sunday, which rendered Leghorn 
to me a little Scotland — all passed before my soul, and 
afforded food for thanksgiving and pleasant meditation ! 

u Oct. 19. — On reaching the last summit between me 
and Borne, I looked down on the little Lago di Vico at 
my feet, and far southward recognised the extending plain 
of the Campagna, in which I felt certain Eome must 
stand. I was right in my conjecture, and a carabinico 
whom I met pointed out the very spot, asserting that he 
himself could faintly distinguish some of the buildings. 
It was enough to know the fact, and I felt this moment 
the most romantic in my life. 

" Oct. 20. — (Eome.) An epoch in my life ! Of course 
I lay awake all night, thinking of what was before me. 
Very early in the morning, as Lucifer indeed was just 
soaring above the horizon, we started for Rome. When 
day dawned, I discovered the desolate majesty of the 
Campagna through which we were passing, and which on 
this side, for more than twenty miles, separates Rome from 
common Italy. Broom, furze, brambles, and ferns, cover 
the whole face of this remarkable country, and the scanty 
attempts at cultivation serve only to render the wilderness 
more apparent. It is not that the soil is bad or incapable 
of produce, as in some parts of Tuscany — no, the vine- 
yards and fields immediately around Rome attest the con- 
trary — but that the common sympathy of mankind appears 



262 



MEMORIALS OF 



to have assigned this depth of mourning to the widowed 
queen of nations. No other homage more fitting to 
departed greatness — no setting more appropriate to be 
desired. The soul is thus attuned to melancholy long 
before you reach the walls of the Eternal City ; and were 
it possible, you would weep, but that your sympathy lies 
too deep for tears. I never before felt such emotions as 
crowded this morning in my heart, nor shall I perhaps 
ever again, except I were privileged to visit Geddes, 
Greece, or Palestine ! The long line of the Apennines, 
now the Apennines, because those of Horace and of Cicero, 
appeared more beautiful, visionary, and wavy, than I had 
anywhere else beheld them ; and the situation of Tivoli 
and Frascati were pointed out to me by one acquainted 
with the country. At last, about seven miles from Eome, 
the dome of St. Peter's appeared overtopping a low line 
of hill that hid the rest of Eome ; but, of course, ad- 
monishing me it was exactly there. Two miles further 
on, we reached the tomb of Nero, and from this point 
Kome was visible. Like one bereft of reason, I called on 
the voiturier to stop, took my knapsack, paid him, and 
descended. 

" After investigating the sarcophagus — which, placed 
on the top of a pedestal, contains some figures and an in- 
scription I could scarcely make out for the weathering — 
I satiated myself with gazing on the Apennines, and re- 
cognising, from the line of rising fog and glancing water, 
the course of the Tiber. I then turned round and looked 
on Kome. The Apennines were precisely as I had pictured 
them, only more beautiful ; approaching, however, too 
near the city on the south, instead of bearing away in 
hazy outline towards Lucania and Apulia. The city 
again appeared to me to lie too much in a hollow between 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



263 



a line of hills, and below the level of the Cainpagna. I 
had fancied it on the level, the hills rising above, and, 
save for them, commanding a view from every point of the 
Apennines towards the east, and the open country north, 
south, and west. I was disappointed, then, in finding the 
city and its hills not open but in a valley, so to speak, 
to which the road gradually but gently descended. Two 
miles further on began the region of vineyards, and culti- 
vation extremely rich and beautiful. About a mile from 
Eome I reached the Ponte Molle, near which, I think, 
were the head-quarters of the French army during the 
siege. Sad havoc among the trees, whole rows of which 
were felled ; and the partial demolition of the bridge 
attested the recent hand of war. I was able, however, to 
cross with the aid of planks. Before me now rolled 
the yellow Tiber, and my heart and head filled. It 
looked familiar, and I recognised it as an old acquaint- 
ance. St. Peter's and the Castle of San Angelo appeared 
on right bank ; on the left a multitude of domes and 
towers. Walking on a mile through a long suburb, I at 
length reached the Porta del Popolo, when, after regard- 
ing the further havoc on the Villa Borghese, without the 
gate, I uncovered my head, and entered the Eternal 
City!" 



264 



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CHAPTER XI. 

rome — letter to rev. n. macleod, with general description of 

rome letter to r. balfour, esq. st. peter's the ghetto 

walks in rome all-s aints' -day palazzo borghese st. 

peter's — Arnold — romanism — studying life in rome — christ- 
mas-day there — last day of 1849- 

The Letters and Diaries written by John Mackintosh 
during the seven months of 1849-50 that he resided 
in Rome, enter as fully into such details of his inner 
and outer life, as those interested in him would like to 
know ; and they tell their own story so clearly, that no 
explanations are required to make them understood by 
the reader. My only difficulty has been, from the abun- 
dant materials afforded by these letters and diaries, to 
abridge their contents, and to select from them whatever 
was most characteristic of what he saw, and how he saw, 
in a city so full of undying interest as Rome. 

Diary.—" Rome, Oct. 20, 1849.— Took a walk on the 
Pincian hill, above the gate by which I entered ; and 
here I lingered long after the sun had set, and moon and 
stars succeeded. At Rome ! — that was the one great 
thought ; to continue the winter at Rome or not — that 
was the second. I am more inclined to hesitate from the 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



265 



wish to rejoin my mother, than from any other considera- 
tion, although at times it does occur to me — Are you 
worthy of all this training ? go work like your compeers. 
I am so conscious of a willingness to suffer hardness as 
a soldier of Christ, when He shall call me to it, that the 
last thought little oppresses me. Nevertheless, Lord, 
take the matter into Thine own hands ! if it he Thy will 
I should depart, work in me to will and to do so ; if other- 
wise, remain with me. Employ me now, and prepare me 
for future usefulness, and dispose my mother and my 
friends to acquiesce in this arrangement. Hear and 
answer me, Lord, for to Thee do I look up !" 

TO THE REV. N. MACLEOD. 

" Rome, Nov. 28, 1849. 
" Dearest Norman, . . . Tour letter, sweet as violets 
among moss, awaited me on my arrival here. From 
Geneva, more literally from Lausanne to Eome, is a long 
step ; but I propose to take it, in bringing you up to the 
current of my present life and associations. Space would 
fail me to speak of the glorious beauties of Switzerland, 
certainly unattained by any description I have seen, how- 
ever fine ; as well as of the passage of the Alps, the de- 
scent into Italy, the wonders of her cities, the Apennines, 
Florence, Yallombrosa, the Mediterranean, and other 
places whose very names are epics. To write of all or 
any of these, I say, is impossible ; but, God willing, the 
time may come when, veiled in my sable prose, they may 
be presented to your mind's eye over your own fire- 
side, in a manner not to dazzle you with their excess of 
beauty. Meanwhile, in Eome, who dare think but of 
Eome ? Six weeks have I now passed here in utter 
solitude, and they seem but a clay ; nor do I feel that I v 



266 



MEMORIALS OF 



have more than scratched the mine that is yet fraught 
with exhaustless stores. Thankful I am to have reached 
it when not too old to feel the glory and the dream. 
What a world- compendium it is ! what an education ! 
Nor can I fancy any complete, which does not include 
a certain portion of time passed within this echoing city. 
There is not a note of the soul that is not sounded, not a 
feeling of the heart that is not appealed to, and not a 
faculty of the mind that is not called into active exercise. 
Do you think that, from a distance, you can have any 
conception of what Eome was and is ? Undeceive your- 
self — it is absolutely impossible ; in my simplicity, I once 
thought so too, but every day now serves to show me 
how wide I was of the mark. But to descend from 
generalities, and touch on a few particulars — how very 
few ! The hundred miles of Campagna, which serves for 
setting, is the first remark ability (?nerJcwilrdigkeit) that 
strikes you. This is a vast undulating plain, in width 
extending from the Apennines to the sea, and, except 
in the immediate vicinity of Eome, wholly abandoned to 
spontaneous produce. 4 Cette terre fatiguee de gloire, qui 
semble dedaigner de produirej says Madame de Stael, and 
in one view the idea is apt enough ; in another, it might 
be called the appropriate weeds of her majestic widow- 
hood. Some thirty miles of this I traversed in approach- 
ing from the north, with a sounding heart, and hearing 
in my ears that magic music, which I am certain warns 
us when we approach the important epochs of our lives. 
You can have no idea of the effect of the Campagna on 
the soul, in preparing it for Kome, nor of the thrilling 
beauty of the Apenninian chain, as it stretches into the 
blue distance, and seems an elysium on which the spirits 
of Cicero, and Horace, and the rest might yet be wander- 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



267 



ing. Then old Tiber shows his fields, shining in the 
solitude, and pointing like an arrow to the site of Rome. 
At last the Eternal City, perhaps under that aspect in 
which it is most eternal, its domes and minarets, and 
above all, St. Peter's, lettering the horizon. Then you 
enter, after crossing the river, about a mile to the north- 
ward, and find that modern Eome encounters you on this 
side, occupying the whole extent of what was the Campus 
Martins — a long, low plain between the Tiber and the 
seven hills. The streets are narrow, cold, and dark, and 
— as the population is somewhere about 160,000, crowded 
mostly into what was the mere field of exercise to old 
Eome — very closely compacted. There is something im- 
posing even in those narrow 7 streets, and they grow upon 
you with all the grandeur and gloom of the Middle Ages, 
but at first sight the impression is certainly disappoint- 
ment. Is this the city of palaces and romance, of murders 
and carnivals, of Colonnas and Borgias, of Popes and 
Cardinals, the home of pilgrimages, the cradle of religious 
orders, the heart of Christendom ! But all that realizes 
itself by and bye : and you have only to open the flood- 
gates of this class of associations, and surrender yourself to 
the current, and then the thoughts go spinning down, until 
you see the Gregorys, and the Leos, and the Crusades, 
and hear the spiritual thunders, as though of yesterday. 

" Nor are you without memorials of the classics even 
here. Immediately on entering, in the centre of a grand 
fountained piazza, stands a glorious obelisk, brought from 
On in Egypt, by Augustus, and where its fellow still 
remains, to show where rose the Temple of the Sun in the 
days of Moses ! If this does not take you back into anti- 
quity, what will ? The Mausoleum of Hadrian, in the 
modem city across the Tiber, a vast round building, 



268 



MEMORIALS OF 



like a Martello Tower, is now erected into the fortress 
of San Angelo ; and the Mausoleum of Augustus, "which 
once stood in the open Campus Martius, surrounded by 
gardens and walks, and which contained the ashes of 
Marcellns and the first Csesars, is now built up into the 
modern Eome, and converted, alas ! into a circus. The 
long Corso, the principal street of Eome, stretches before 
you in a direct line on entering, and carries the eye to 
the Capitol. Of course I traversed it, almost closing my 
eyes to all else, and found myself, oh ! joy of joys, and 
sorrow of sorrows, at the foot of the Capitol, in the Forum. 
Ancient Kome is thus entirely aloof and separate from 
the other ; its hills and intervening depressions skirt the 
south and eastern position of the city, and cover a far more 
ample surface. Beginning with the river, which runs for 
the most part north and south in passing through Eome, 
they occur somewhat in this order — the Aventine, most 
picturesque hill, now abandoned to a few convents over- 
hanging it, and stretching eastward; the Palatine, covered 
with the ruins of palaces, north of the Aventine, and a 
little inland from the river ; the Capitoline, north of this, 
and nearer the river-side ; then northward, as I have said, 
the modern city. Eastward, again, from the Aventine, 
and with it forming the southern boundary, the Cselian, 
this hill partly occupied by modern buildings, among 
which the Lateran ; then north from it, forming the 
eastern boundary of Eome, parallel to the river, but with 
the modern city of course interposed, first the Esquiline, 
on which stood the palace of Maecenas, and probably the 
grave of Horace, next the Viminal and Quirinal, side by 
side ; so that the Quirinal is thrust into modern Eome, 
and is covered by the Pope's and other palaces. Lastly, 
the Pincian — which was not one of the famous Seven, but 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



269 



which overhangs the gate by which I made you enter 
Rome — has its northern extremity laid out in public 
gardens, from which you see Soracte and the Apennines, 
and on which, in conclusion, resides, and now writes, your 
humble servant. The walls of Aurelian, repaired by 
Belisarius and successive Popes, surround this vast cir- 
cumference, and serve along their southern and eastern 
extent but to divide wilderness and vineyard, from wilder- 
ness and vineyard — for the hills, as I have mentioned, 
are almost void of habitation. Thus entering by the 
famous Appian gate on the south — by which, along the 
Appian Way, conquerors and their trains, proconsuls from 
the east coming from Brimdusium, and nobles and senators 
from their villas at Baire, would approach the city — you 
now travel nearly two miles ere you reach the Forum, 
without meeting more than one or two solitary houses. 
Yet here it was that the thousands, if not millions, of old 
Rome lived and breathed. I know no more touching 
thing than to walk round Rome outside the walls ; on one 
hand, looking over the desolate Campagna, and hearing 
the wind sighing among the reeds ; on the other, looking 
up with reverence and regret on the altce moznia Romce. 
The gaunt peasants working here and there among the 
reeds and vineyards, have a kind of wail as melancholy 
as that of the sea, and of which I am told the burden 
sometimes is — Roma, Roma, Roma, non e piil come era 
prima ! At all events, when I want this feeling — 

' Deep as first-lore, and wild with all regret ; 
Oh ! death in life, the days that are no more ! ' 

to be peculiarly vivid, I go towards evening to make 
this pilgrimage, and if the full -eyed moon happen to 
rise over my head, and throw its pensive influence 
over wall and tower, I divest myself of all sympathy 



270 



MEMORIALS OF 



with the present, and seem to feel the toga hanging 
from my shoulder, and enter expecting to meet with 
Cicero, or the mighty Caesar. Every gate, too, is con- 
nected with some mighty event in history. By this Alaric 
entered over-night with his Goths, and the glory was 
departed. Here Hannibal would have entered — this was 
betrayed to Tobila and his Vandals ; and, again, by this 
Belisarius retook the prostrate city ; last, though not 
least, by this St. Paul must have entered from Appii 
Forum, and the Tres Tabernae. Oh ! glorious is the way 
by which he must have passed, though it had not then 
the ornaments that have come down to us. It was the 
same with that of the conquerors. Winding between the 
Aventine and Caelian, and then between the Caelian and 
the Palatine, you pass under the magnificent Arch of 
Constantine ; then, leaving the gigantic Coliseum on 
the right, you slowly skirt the Palatine, passing between 
palaces on the one hand, and ruined temples on the other, 
until, at the top of a gentle slope, you reach the Arch of 
Titus. From this, the Forum bursts upon you with its 
pillars and porticoes, showing the wealth of temples that 
must have adorned it ; then, by the Via Sacra, you de- 
scend and traverse it, and, if you please, ascend the 
Capitol at its extremity. ISTo one could be disappointed 
with the remains and the appropriate condition of ancient 
Eome ; and clay after day, often with some classic in my 
hand, do I spend among them, recalling, repeopling, 
re-inhabiting, and gathering, as I may, that instruction 
and aggrandizement of spirit which they are so fitted to 
convey. 

" But I daresay, dear Norman, though all this interests 
you — yet in the strong, practical nineteenth century, and 
religious bent of your mind — you would wish me rather to 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



271 



have enlarged on the city of the Pope. Well, its interest, 
always great, is daily increasing on my spirit. Of course 
I omit no opportunity of gathering such information, and 
making such observations as I can, but this must be the 
work of time ; and it is especially in this point of view, 
that I have proposed to remain here for the winter ; but 
we imbibe so much prejudice with our mother's milk — 
we have so much thrust upon us as the offspring of Calvin 
and of Luther, that I am anxious calmly to examine for 
myself, and have my judgment of the Komish system in- 
telligent and candid. I know you will approve of this, 
and would not have me, at my years, to come here a 
ready-made judge, instead of a patient learner and ob- 
server ; nor do I think that the vulgar mode of argument, 
what may be called the slang of the question, is what 
will avail in the coming struggle. Now it seems to me 
that as I am not flying through Rome, as I intended, this 
answer to your letter will please you better than a more 
direct one, and I hope to hear so soon. Briefly, you can- 
not but be conscious that you are here in the city of the 
Pope ; there is great solemnity, great decorum, great 
gtavity — no sights by day or night are suffered to offend 
the eye — the streets are early silent — even swearing is 
repressed by law. On Sunday all shops shut ; day and 
night the air is melodious with church or convent bells; 
and where service is performed, it is generally well at- 
tended ; but, then, what is that service ? Ah ! there is 
the question : at first sight the grossnesses present them- 
selves ; but I want to read, and probe, and hear what is 
to be said that reconciled a Bellarmine, a Pascal, and a 
Bossuet to what offends me. As far as I can learn, the 
mass of the Romans are republicans, and would wish the 
government vested in the laity. Many of those, however, 



272 



MEMORIALS OF 



would retain the Pope, even as temporal sovereign, and 
are staunch Catholics ; the others are infidels, and only 
talk of Protestantism because they hate the priests. 
Strange to say, even where the priests are notoriously 
corrupt, which is not specially the case here, the Catholic 
Italian distinguishes carefully between the man and his 
office. I cannot hear of anything permanently effected 
by Protestant efforts during the Kepublic. Of course all 
clubs are now dissolved ; the cardinals, who are dis- 
pleasing all parties by their vindictiveness, having quickly 
put a stop to them. I saw a gentleman who had visited 
the Inquisition during the Kepublic, and described its 
dungeons in blackest colours ; but, of course, they are 
now closed again for ages to come. There is little doubt, 
the Pope was on the eve of returning, when the new 
somerset in the French Chambers deterred him. He is 
personally loved. Being of a liberal family, he wished 
reforms, and began them most judiciously, thereby alien- 
ating all the Cardinals and High Church party. The re- 
turn he met with for this from the people, unaccustomed 
to any concession of political influence, was demand upon 
demand, until he was besieged in the Vatican, and forced 
to flee. They have thus themselves chiefly to blame for 
the re-imposition of the galling yoke. When he returns, 
he will be welcomed, for he is better than the cardinals ; 
and without him trade, &c, languish. Now I must re- 
serve many remarks I have already made, and many more 
I hope to make, for a future letter, where you shall have 
no rubbish about old Kome. How grateful all your views 
of home ! My warmest love to your dad, the Doctor, your 
mother, and all others. How blessed you are in your 
work ! yes, I will say even from amid the fascinations of 
Eome, how enviable ! I wish I could get Meyer here— 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



273 



but it would be impossible. Thanks, thanks for your 
loving counsel, which was not unneeded, nor, I hope, un- 
profitable. Blessed be God, He restores my soul often by 
sharp chastisements, reminding me that I am a son and 
not a bastard. You are daily in my prayers, and I ever 
am your fondly attached. — Yes, you shall have the best 
view of Eome that I can procure, and aught else I can 
think would interest you— a friend to whom I owe many 
of the happiest hours of my life, much mental develop- 
ment, and not a few faithful and well-timed warnings — 
a friend, the thought of whom brightens my future !" 

TO ROBERT BALFOUR, ESQ. 

" Eome, Feb. 22, 1850. 
" My very dear Balfour, .... On the subject of the 
Academy — could I be forgetful of it here, where I know 
not whether the images of early days, or the records of 
the great Eomans themselves, predominate in my mind, or 
are most touching ? We little know the harvest of delight 
which is being prepared in boyhood with its pains, and 
little did I then suspect how wisely we were made ac- 
quainted with the history, literature, and institutions of 
old Eome. The ages are not unconnected — the human 
family is still the same, and often with amazement do T 
now recognise analogies of which I never dreamt before. 
... I traversed the Alps with the emotions of a hero, and 
descended into those plains which our fancy has almost 
celestialized. Much, however, as the north of Italy struck 
me, it was not till I again crossed the Apennines and 
reached Florence, that I realized all that poets have sung 
of earth, air, and sky. Finally, I distinguish in this 
respect even between Florence and Eome. Here, here it 
is that you have a liquid ether overhead, that seems to 

s 



274 



MEMORIALS OF 



lend its character to every object, and invest the most 
common with the glory of a dream. The sky is perfect 
whether by night or day. Eome speaks with a majesty of 
sorrow that never ceases to solemnize and impress — the 
Campagna, a vast wilderness, in which, with a narrow 
border of cultivation, Eome is placed, seems to have never 
acknowledged the Christian era, but mournfully to count 
from the foundation of the city ; destitute of all buildings 
save the ruins of antiquity, majestic aqueducts and sepul- 
chres — the ghosts of greatness ; yet, oh ! the beauty of the 
wild flowers, 'fresh with childhood/ that cover its grassy 
turf ; the gladness of the lark that shouts above, only ren- 
dering its melancholy more touching ; the lovely views of 
the Alban and other hills that line it, and where each 
modern town, gleaming whitely on their flanks, marks the 
site of some famous place — Alba LoDga, Tusculum, Prse- 
neste, Tibur ; so that it is positively more easy to live in 
the past than in the present. I am more than satisfied 
with Eome ; I am in love — intoxicated ; and how I am 
to break the chain when the sad time comes, I know not ; 
but come it must, and that soon. . . . 

" My dear Balfour, although you may think me a great 
truant, I long to be once more among my dear friends, 
surrounded by those means of grace so necessary for per- 
sonal religion, and with those opportunities of usefulness, 
no less a privilege than a duty. If the Lord will, I trust 
that this time may be near ; but in the meantime, it is 
incumbent to work where I am. I find that every situa- 
tion has its discipline, and if we are the Lord's children 
and walking in His ways, that He will not fail to guide us, 
whether by chastisement or by encouragement. But for 
this, I know not where I might now be — with so much to 
engross the spirit, and open a happiness, as it were, apart 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



275 



from God. I believe I have your prayers, as you have 
mine ; and when you write, do not fail to say what you 
think may quicken or reprove me." 

Diary.— " Sunday, Oct 21.— (St. Peter's.) Having 
formed the resolution to dismiss all prejudice, and regard 
the Eoman Catholic religion with as much respect as 
possible in examining its merits and demerits, I was not a 
little staggered, just after reverting to my purpose, by 
observing the superstitious reverence paid to a statue of St. 
Peter. I had forgotten this famous statue was here ; and 
so, in passing it, had wondered at the peculiar appearance 
of one of the feet. Soon, however, a respectably-dressed 
man came up, did obeisance, and then placed his head 
under the foot, concluding by wiping and kissing it. 
This process was gone through by many persons of all 
ranks, mothers holding up even their infants to render 
the homage. My assumed respect gave way for the 
moment to a smile. At last, without on this occasion 
observing the church in its details, I sat down upon a 
bench, and read through the Epistle to the Komans with 
much attention and admiration. I suppose I spent about 
three hours in this delightful study, after which I left the 
church. 

" Oct 22. — My steps were turned by the Piazza di 
Minerva, where is an obelisk once dedicated to her, now 
to Mary, towards the quarter of the Ghetto. I soon 
reached it, between the Capitol and the river. It is of 
considerable extent, and entirely occupied by Jews. There 
they have continued since the days of Claudius and Nero, 
hedged off as it were from their fellow-citizens, as though 
their touch were pollution. I confess that on seeing 
them with their strongly-marked Israelitish features, old 



276 



MEMORIALS OF 



men and maidens, young men and children, my heart for 
the first time warmed towards the living Jews. It seemed 
as if but one day intervened between the time when they 
were visited by Paul, and persecuted by the Komans. 
Outcast Israel ! — there was something touching in their 
looks, especially of the old, as though Zion were still 
written on their hearts. Still, too, beloved of God, and 
excluded only for a season, faith could leap over this 
future interval as easily as the past, and see them once 
more within their own borders. There was nothing in- 
harmonious in the sight of them amid so much that is 
venerable, as may be said of the modern Komans ; nay, 
more antique than all, they throw a shade on the monu- 
ments that surround them. 

" Oct 26. — On leaving the Palatine, I returned and 
dined ; then, by moonlight, retraced the Corso, that I 
might see my favourite spots under its bewitching in- 
fluence. There was an opiate in the air which had the 
same effect as the Schlangenbad waters — it made one in 
love with everything, even with himself. I seemed walking 
in a dream, even as I trod the crowded streets — how much 
more when I got among columns, arches, and the poetry 
of ruins ! A mellow light suffused them, and a balmy 
atmosphere enveloped, that might have tempted the old 
Komans from their tombs. 

"How soft and visionary the pillars of Vespasian's 
and Saturn's Temples, as if steeped in the sleep of 
centuries ! the Palatine, in the shade, dark and haunted 
looking ; the Arch of Titus grand, but still more that 
of Con stan tine ; and the romantic road between the Pala- 
tine and Caslian, bearing away from the Appian gate. 
And then, too, the Coliseum ; but here I felt the con- 
trariousness of my nature, which will not go in the 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



277 



beaten track. So much has been said and sung of it, and 
so many visit it by moonlight, that I could only see, not 
feel, or at least not feel to enthusiasm, its beauty. Yet 
beautiful it was, grand, sublime, a world-creation. Its 
bulk impresses me more on passing between it and the 
Esquiline than even from its centre. Home again by 
the Corso, without being stabbed, robbed, or aught else. 
for one hour of Cicero in the Forum, to awake once 
more the nobility of Eoman spirit ! Or rather once more 
for Paul to confute and set right his followers who 
worship his slightest relic, and yet steep their hands in 
the blood of the saints, his true successors : 1 Ye build 
the tombs of the prophets, and garnish the sepulchres of 
the righteous. Wherefore ye be witnesses unto your- 
selves, that ye are the children of them which killed the 
prophets ! ' 

" Oct. 27. — In spite of last night's sleeplessness, I have 
never had a day in which the past stood more vividly 
before my eyes. Passing the Coliseum, and looking to- 
wards the Esquiline, I had Horace, Maecenas, and Virgil 
so distinctly realized, that I could have continued for 
hours in their company : Horace, the lover of wine and 
good cheer, the admirer of pretty girls, writing with ease 
his odes, and reciting them at his next interview with 
Maecenas : talking, too, with him of other matters, as of 
Augustus — still a marvel to them as the first Emperor, 
feared and yet loved, and flattered for his favours ; and 
then the politics of the Eoman world — architecture, rural 
matters, men, manners, and what not. Virgil, too, caressed 
at court, but a separate spirit. His visit to Greece, and 
the talk it would occasion before and after ! How singu- 
lar the suddenness of this transition from a Eepublic to 
an Empire ! and what a clever fellow Augustus must have 



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been, to effect and perpetuate it ! I thirst to read an 
intelligent history of the gradually predisposing causes 
of this in the wane of the republican spirit, and the mis- 
guided conspiracy against the first Caesar. 

" Sunday, Oct. 28. — On entering the Porta Angelica, 
I was much shocked at this barefaced perversion of 
Scripture, printed in large characters on the church ad- 
joining the gate : — £ Let us therefore come boldly to the 
throne of Mary, that we may find mercy to pardon, and 
grace to help in time of need' — the original of course in 
Latin. Take the most favourable view of Popery, over- 
look their priesthood, their Pope, even their restriction of 
Scriptures, and such a breach of the first commandment 
is staggering. Lord, lead me into all truth ! Enable 
me to form an impartial and correct judgment of this part 
of professing Christians, and on other points keep me 
from error, and guide me by Thy Spirit ; above all, 
may the love of Christ dwell richly and habitually in 
my heart, and bring forth in me the fruits of godly 
living. 

" Thursday, Nov. 1. — Church-bells ringing tumult- 
ously, followed by the firing of cannon, awoke me at an 
early hour this morning. It was All-Saint's-Day, and 
hence the demonstration. After breakfast, I deliberated 
how I should spend it, and repaired to Trinite di Monte, 
the nearest parish church. Although ten o'clock, the hour 
of service, no mass was being celebrated, but a few wor- 
shippers were scattered in a church of great beauty, where 
the bright light of day was subdued and hallowed before 
we entered, and the fragrance of incense told gratefully 
on the senses. Nothing loath, I joined the worshippers 
in silent prayer — perhaps the only circumstance in the 
Eoman Catholic ritual where I feel inclined, nay prone, 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



279 



to unite with them. Those churches, ever open, and 
affording a calm retreat from the bustle and ungodliness 
of the world, refresh the spirit. 

" After my devotions, I found that I was a prisoner, 
the church belonging to a convent of nuns, employed in 
the education of children of the upper classes. One of 
the venerable ladies, however, whom I had observed 
moving about, pointed out to me a side entrance by which 
I could escape. I did so with feelings of respect for this 
church and convent ; and as it was one of those clear- 
heavened days, when summer is bequeathing her trust 
to approaching winter, I could not resist the temptation 
of walking round the Pincian gardens, and admiring the 
set outline of dome and mountain. Many thoughts crossed 
my mind on the various topics which Eome suggests, ere 
I regained my rooms, and indited a long letter to my 
mother. 

" This finished, it was two o'clock, and I sallied out 
for St. Peter's, where vespers were to be celebrated at 
three. It was a complete Eoman holiday — every shop 
shut, and the people all arrayed in holiday attire. St. 
Peter's reached, I found service going on in one of the 
side-chapels, where apparently three orders of dignitaries 
were ranged at either end, the altar in the centre, and 
the organ-loft with a choir of men above. The anthem 
was very long, and well played and sung. Then followed 
chanting below, with manifold mysterious forms ; priests 
coming forward in pairs, and chanting a few words at 
the desk ; boys detaching, and setting up a different fronti- 
spiece to the altar ; priests scattering incense around each 
other in succession, &c. &c. Taking the most favourable 
view of the matter, I had to admit that, whatever might 
be the profit to themselves, the bystanders were little 



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included : not but that they were a numerous company 
in themselves, and might have their hearts occupied in 
devotion ; yet, such as yet appears to me the genius of 
this religion — the masses are not suitably taken in. . . . 
During the mass, they may have some profitable idea of 
what is going on, or typified ; but in general, how little 
can their worship be 4 with understanding ! 7 

" Coming home, I meditated more on the crying ob- 
jections to the system, which indeed led to the Keforma- 
tion ; the indubitable worship of the Virgin ; the unlawful 
canonizing of saints, and praying to them ; the institution 
of purgatory ; with prayers for the dead ; and the shame- 
ful system of indulgences. The primacy of Peter and 
institution of the Pope, the withholding of the Scriptures, 
the sacrifice of the mass, the confessional, crossings, holy 
water, &c, appear as nothing in comparison with the 
former. They admit of being even artfully defended and 
vindicated from Scripture ; but the other, especially the 
worship of the Virgin, seem to be the very height of 
wantonness, and I should like to have the introduction 
of this latter satisfactorily explained as to time and prob- 
able cause. 

u Spent the evening in my rooms, and, among other 
things, read the catalogue of the saints in Hebrews xi., 
who all 4 lived by faith/ 

" Nov. 2. — It is impossible to describe the feeling of 
loneliness and melancholy, and the many thoughts that 
crowd upon the mind, in thus wandering round the bul- 
warks of the Eternal City. Within, modern habitations 
everywhere meet the eye, but here it is the very shell of 
old Rome herself. Yon have pre-eminently, too, the feel- 
ing of having got back to what is anterior to all our modern 
stream of civilisation. The Middle Ages, the Crusades, 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



281 



the tournaments, the monasteries, the abbots, the inter- 
national wars, the revolutions ; the poets, philosophers, 
historians ; the discoveries, inventions, reformations, and 
modern society — all are before you ; and you are able, as 
it were, to look down the wondrous stream. What a 
mighty, what a wonderful thing, this destiny of the world, 
slowly but certainly evolving ! 

' For I doubt not through the ages one increasing purpose runs, 
And the thoughts of men grow greater with the process of the suns.' 

" Nov. 11. — Felt discouraged at this continued want of 
repose and consequent debility ; yet endeavoured to fortify 
myself in God, and recognise His will as mine, being in 
no sense my own. Went out to dine, and then returned 
and read Dr. Cappadoze's conversion, in Italian, as well 
as the Scriptures. 4 Lord., in Thee have I trusted ; let 
me not be ashamed/ 

" Monday, Nov. 12. — A betterish night, but still some- 
thing lacking; I am colded, jaded, and not myself. 
Studied, and not least the seraphic sky above my head, 
visible in extensive canopy from my windows, and for 
this, or indeed for any season, how wonderful, how sub- 
lime ! — an airy vault so delicately blue that you might 
think to pierce it, and discover behind the heaven of 
heavens ! My windows look upon a terraced garden, 
pretty withal, even now, and well kept ; but, above all, 
here the merry pipe of birds heralds the dawn, and gives 
the idea of a second spring. They are birds of passage, 
visiting old Eome on their way to a yet more genial 
climate ; and, like tourists, they are to be found chiefly 
among the ruins, the Coliseum, the Palatine, the Aven- 
tine, and Caracalla's Baths, forcing a smile upon their 
heavy features by their blithe merry din. In the after- 



282 



MEMORIALS OF 



noon I visited the Museum of the Capitol. In the Cor- 
ridor many of the busts pleased me, especially those of 
Juno and Jupiter, most expressive of the best heathen 
conception of these personages. The hall of the Emperors 
also most interesting. This bust of Julius Caesar answers 
to one's expectations, with its grave thoughtful counten- 
ance ; Augustus, haughty and refined ; the others, for the 
most part, as elsewhere. Noble statue of Agrippina in 
the centre, with all the grace and dignity and character 
of a Eoman matron, the mother of Germanicus. Hall 
of the Philosophers : Virgil, elegance and power mingled 
in that long, oval, half-feminine countenance. 

44 Nov. 13. — Two young Englishmen accompanied me 
through the ruins — most gentlemanly, pleasant fellows. 
On quitting, I ascended the Coliseum to witness sunset. 
Down he went — 

' Not as in northern climes, obscurely bright ; 
But one unclouded blaze of living light ! ' 

The view of the Capitol, the Palatine, the Arches of Titus 
and Constantine, the ruined temples, the woody Cselian, 
the Esquiline, the Quirinal, and the Alban Hills, again, as 
ever, sank into my soul. However low I may be other- 
wise, the genius of this part of Kome never fails to move 
me. How beautiful the vista through the Arch of Con- 
stantine, bright as the future, though leading, it may be, 
only to ruin ! The gray banks of the Coliseum, and the 
red walls behind, look from above still more imposing, and 
can be more readily understood, and restored in fancy to 
their pristine glory. I believe I should never have tired 
of dreaming here, but dusk compelled me to descend. 
Home then, meditating upon other days. 

44 Nov. 15. — Study, and at two to Museum of Capitol. 
Again regarded the statues of the Corridor, and struck 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



283 



with this : — that all the finest heads, whether male or 
female, gods or men, might find their types among the 
physiognomies of England ; but of no other country I 
have visited, not even Eome itself. Again delighted 
with Agrippina and Virgil. 

"Nov. 17. — Another Eoman week ended, during which 
I have experienced much goodness, mingled with trial. 
my Saviour, enable me to regard myself as Thine, and 
to acknowledge and believe in Thy wisdom, whatever 
Thou art pleased to send me ! Grant that to-morrow my 
soul may be refreshed and urged heavenwards by Thine 
own gracious Spirit. 

" Sunday, Nov. 18. — At eleven, to church — a large con- 
gregation. Again an admirable sermon from Mr. Bayett, 
on the Syrophenician Woman. My heart warmed to him 
for his truth and faithfulness, mixed also with so much 
encouragement and tenderness. 

" I think my daily practice here, in endeavouring to 
realize past times, communicates its effects also to my 
Scripture -reading and other studies ; at least I feel a new 
zest in picturing the circumstances under which the pro- 
phecies were delivered — the effect they would have ; and 
then again, still farther, in projecting the thoughts to 
their accomplishment. 

" Afternoon — another beautiful sermon, on the Lost 
Sheep. Home again, and read some chapters of John, 
endeavouring to get out of the accustomed formality and 
stereotyped ideas with which I read them, and to accom- 
pany the Lord as did the disciples, seeing and hearing 
Him speak. This gives a new light, life, meaning, to the 
whole. 

" Nov. 20. — Out at two, and to St. Peter's, pausing on 
the way at the Palazzo Borghese, one of those vast 



284 



MEMORIALS OF 



gloomy dwellings so numerous at Kome ; and tenanted, 
for aught I know, by the lineal descendants of the proud 
patrician Komans of old times. No symptoms of life — a 
cold cloistered quadrangle, with here and there a liveried 
servant, lounging or stealing along ; statues in front, and 
a little, irregular, wall-environed garden behind, where 
fountains dribble, and statues are again interspersed 
among the little walks and plots. I should like much to 
know the interior life of one of those prison palaces. I 
believe it is cold, stately, and uncomfortable enough. 
The inmates are, I presume, to be seen driving on the 
Pincio at four ; and very grave and joyless they look to 
my eyes, as those who were regretting other days, or op- 
pressed by the weight of dignity they had to sustain. A 
portion of the palace is now generally allocated to French 
officers, and, I believe, in the season of Eome, is wont to 
be let to strangers. 

" Leaving, then, this romantic edifice, I proceeded on 
my way, specially regarding, en passant, the bridge and 
fortress of San Angelo. Some little boys also emerging 
from a free school, near the Piazza of St. Peter's, arrested 
my attention, from the ridiculous manner in which the 
full-grown Eoman was miniatured in their features, dress, 
attitudes, and expressions. Such schools abound ; and 
one just opposite my windows, in the Via Sistina, daily 
interests and amuses me. I see the rogues muster at 
eight; then hear their chant at commencing; then the 
reading singly, in a bawling voice, as at our own parish 
schools, only more musical ; then the reading, or rather 
cantilating, in chorus. The wandering attention of the 
boys near the window, the exertions of the worthy-gowned 
pedagogue, the occasional rebukes — all recall vividly my 
own early days, when, amid languishing and ennui, I was 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



285 



laying up the rich harvest of association I am now reap- 
ing among the monuments of Eome. I am thus glad to 
say that the usual happiness of boyhood has with me been 
reserved for a later period of my life. 

" St. Peter's indeed stupendous, though the criticisms 
must be right, which blame the facade and porch — a de- 
parture from Michael Angelo's plan — for taking away 
from the overpowering effect of the dome, which in most 
parts of the Piazza it conceals. Then that forest of 
gigantic pillars on either side of the Piazza — what a 
conception — what a creation ! Entered, and stood long- 
looking over the area, and then slowly upwards to the 
ceiling. Walk down one of the side aisles ; see what 
magnificent Cathedrals might be made even of the trans- 
verse sections, what churches of the side-chapels ! Stop 
at various stages of your progress, and see what a vast 
edifice might be even the section you have traversed, and 
thus you will arrive at some idea of the enormous area of 
the whole. The eye and mind require some such pro- 
cess as this, otherwise the immensity is, from the admir- 
able proportions of the whole, not adequately compre- 
hended. The lightness of the vast acculminating dome 
also impressed me. It seems to partake of the ethereal 
nature of Italian skies — an epitome of the heaven bent 
above it, or of one still more ample, more divine. The 
mellow light of evening compensated for the absence of 
an artificial gloom, and no doubt lent mystery and inde- 
finite grandeur to the whole. 

" Having replenished for the night the ever-burning 
lamps of the sepulchre in the centre, the verger chanted 
the retreat, and the temple was soon cleared of all human 
occupants ; but I doubt not that, as Milton says of earth's 
fairest spots, 4 myriads of spiritual creatures ' hover round 



286 



MEMORIALS OF 



it, both when we wake and when we sleep ! The erec- 
tion of this temple stands on the verge of the Reformation, 
and indeed, from the shameful traffic in indulgences — sanc- 
tioned for its completion, may be said to have occasioned 
it. It may fairly, however, as some one says, be claimed 
alike by Protestants and Catholics, as a temple worthy of 
its end — next to that which the Creator has Himself 
reared in the external world ; inferior, however, both to 
the humble and contrite heart ! 

" Monday, Nov. 26. — Continuation of bad, muggy 
weather. Forenoon, read some of Cornelius Nepos, to 
remind me of my school days. The life of Miltiades and 
Themistocles told with what beauty and simplicity ! — gems 
both : in some respects he may be called the Isak Walton 
of the Latins. How Greece 'unvisited' shines to the 
mental eye ! I think I see the beautiful pillars of her 
temples defined against the sapphire sky — not a name, 
not a river, not a mountain, not an island, but is music 
to the soul. Were it put in my power, I know not that 
I would risk the dissipation of this dream by an actual 
visit. It is otherwise with Eome — for here the interests 
bear upon the present and the future ; while of Greece, 
they are more as it were a consecrated vision, like her own 
mythology. 

"Saturday, Dec. 1. — Advent is approaching, and I 
desire to put my thoughts in unison with those of the 
churches around me ; to meditate specially on that great 
epoch when the Desire of all Nations appeared, and the 
deep night of heathenism, broken only by uncertain 
gleams, gave w^ay before the light of Him who has in- 
troduced life and immortality. 

" At this season Rome is crowded with shepherds from 
the mountains, clad in their wild mountain dress, and 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



287 



playing in couples a kind of rude bagpipe, called in 
Italian zamponia. They are hired to play before the 
images of the Virgin ; and, I believe, to represent those 
shepherds of Bethlehem, who paid their early homage to 
the Saviour. The music is particularly shrill and dis- 
cordant ; and could we suppose the original to have been 
such, it would diminish somewhat the exquisite relish 
which this anecdote of the morning has for the imagina- 
tion and the heart. 

" Tuesday, Dec. 4. — To-day, for the first time since 
leaving Zurich, I have felt positively dejected. I know 
not exactly why, but things do not seem to go well with 
me here. Yet, my Father, I desire to recognise Thy 
discipline, and to profit ; give me Thy grace, for without 
Thee I can do nothing, through Thee all things ! 

" Dec. 5. — I find that all subjects of interest here are 
diminishing to me, in comparison with the study of the 
Eoman Catholic Church and its tenets. God give me 
grace and opportunity to investigate the question can- 
didly, humbly, and prayerfully. 

" Sunday, Dec. 9. — Morning service ; then home, and 
after the Scriptures, read Arnold's noble introduction, 
directed against the Tractarians' idea of the priesthood 
and succession. What power — what adamantine integ- 
rity, purity, nobility of purpose ! 

" This has been to me a most sweet day. The gracious 
calm and absence of discomfort in my new abode, after 
my former sufferings ; the leisure my spirit now had to 
review past mercies with gratitude, and past shortcomings 
with contrition ; above all, the delightful sense of Christ's 
favour and presence, the Spirit witnessing with my spirit, 
filled me with peace and joy, and no weariness of mind 
or body has visited me through my unbroken solitude : 



288 



MEMORIALS OF 



i Lord, lift Thou up the light of Thy countenance upon 
me. Thou hast put gladness in my heart, more than 
when the blessings of the worldling do most abound.' 

"Monday, Dec. 10. — This morning read one of Arnold's 
sermons ; how admirable for exalted views, pure expres- 
sion, and happy illustration ! I have no doubt his sermons 
have told most favourably on the English as well as 
other pulpits. 

" Wednesday, Dec. 12. — The Eoman Catholic contro- 
versy, as well as other subjects, occupied my mind. Fol- 
lowing out rapidly the promises to St. Peter and the 
apostles, and all that can be learned on the subject from 
the New Testament, I confess I drifted very widely from 
any approximation to Eomanism : I found myself recalling 
that form of doctrine, worship, and government, exhibited 
in the new Church of Geneva. The laity must exercise 
their Christian functions as a portion of the spiritual 
Church ; otherwise you have already taken the first step 
towards the substitution of the clergy for the Church. 
How genial, how warning, consoling, sanctifying, the 
spiritual worship of a truly evangelical church or body of 
believers ! 

" Passing along the street, I observed a little knot 
of women chanting the Litany of the Virgin, in Latin, 
before one of her images. One acted as coryphaeus, and 
the rest gave the responses. Poor souls, thought I, the 
Lord may hear and answer your prayers, directed in your 
ignorance, to one who cannot hear and intercede ! The 
reflex influence of this devotional spirit, too, may be 
wholesome ; though how far short of the same, rightly 
directed, and how terrible the blame of those, if such 
there be, who have wilfully and knowingly misguided 
you! 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



289 



" At home, — a quantity of Seymour, who, from his own 
account, is well read in the Eoman Catholic controversy ; 
but appears to have met with sad men of straw as his op- 
ponents. The importance of the style, coupled with the 
lightness of the matter ; his exceeding naivete in ex- 
posing the workings of his mind and heart ; the some- 
what Jesuitical position which he himself assumes, in 
order to have discussions with the Jesuits, and yet not 
be sent away from Eome — are amusing. A worthy, good 
man, I have no doubt ; belonging to the happy, contented, 
fully persuaded, comfortable, useful body of evangelical 
English pastors. 

"Saturday, Dec. 15. — Bather poorly this forenoon. 
my Lord and Saviour ! at the close of another week 
more deeply conscious than ever of my helplessness with- 
out Thee, either to resist sin, or to do good, I cast my- 
self on Thy divine grace, mercy, and strength ; and I 
know that Thou wilt not leave me nor forsake me 1 
Mould me according to the good pleasure of Thy will ; 
and when temptations abound, may Thy grace much 
more abound ! 4 1 am Thine, save me.' 

" Dec. 19. — Dull day, but health better than yester- 
day, and study good. Afternoon, allowed myself to wan- 
der through the heart of modern Borne, looking at all the 
shop windows and stalls, the countenances of the people, 
the markets, everything in short — studying life. Bating 
cold fingers, I can fancy no more thorough or delicious 
diversion for the mind. The history of such a progress, 
with the sudden and widely different trains of thought 
suggested, would make an interesting paper. The cameo 
windows, the marble and bronze models of ruins and 
• tatues, each of course pregnant with ideas, and bringing 
within the ken details hardly noticed in the originals; 

T 



290 



MEMORIALS OF 



suddenly a palace with the arms of the Knights of St. 
John ; the people of the Corso ; and soon after the different 
class of the market-place in the Piazza Navona ; the little 
birds, alive and dead, exposed for sale, suggested many 
natural history inquiries, and wafted the spirit to the 
gardens where they lately carolled ; the Swiss Palace ; 
the endless suggestions of the market-place, leading the 
mind to those of other cities in Germany, France, Bel- 
gium, or England ; the palaces ; the architecture of the 
streets ; the appearance and occupants of the shops, w 7 hen 
lit for the evening — all afforded a feast, and a useful one, 
which I hope oftener to enjoy : for my mind needs 
diversion as much as the body exercise ; and I believe 
the one may be sometimes not inaptly substituted for the 
other. 

"Monday, Dec. 24. — It is the custom at Eome to 
bring in Christmas-day by watching. Having fasted the 
previous day, they assemble towards evening at each 
other's houses, and regale themselves on cakes, &c, and 
play games till the churches begin to open, towards 
eleven. They then go out and spend the night and early 
morning in visiting one or more of these. At eleven I 
repaired with Hemans to St. Luigi Francese, which was 
brilliantly illuminated, and where half of the nave had 
reserved seats, with one of which we were accommodated. 
Having a Breviary, and Hemans by my side, I was able 
to follow the whole service, and enjoyed its beauty and 
piety very much. The selection of psalms, hymns, and 
prayers, was most beautiful, and the chanting and music 
excellent. Towards mass, a French military band lent 
its aid, and altogether the service was most imposing. It 
did not conclude till one a.m., at which time the crowd in 
going out was very great, and, being greatly composed of 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



291 



French, full of levity and irreligion. We hastened to 
the Ara Cseli, on the Capitol, and the view of those grand 
spots by lustrous moonlight, and under a deep blue frosty 
sky, was delicious. The church itself was dimly bright, 
and from its site and the occasion led me particularly to 
think how miraculously the humble babe of Bethlehem 
had overturned and supplanted the empire of the world. 
The bambino and prcesepio were not, however, exposed. 
At two I parted with Hemans, and made my way to Santa 
Maria Maggiore, on the Esquiline, where, had the Pope 
been here, he would in person have celebrated mass at 
midnight. To-night the service was not till three, and I 
had to wait for an hour with many others in the cold. On 
my way, all Eome seemed to be quietly astir ; but every 
shop being shut, under penalties, there was no drunkenness 
or indecorum. At last we were admitted, and a blaze of 
light burst upon the view — the long Basilica being splen- 
didly illuminated. A line of troops, on either side, kept 
open the centre of the nave. The service was long and 
tedious, taking place at the extreme end of the church, so 
that the effect of both music and chanting was much lost. 
The Hodsons were there, and with them I conversed. At 
last, about five, the procession took place ; but it was 
very poor in point of numbers, the cardinal- vicar alone of 
the cardinals, and, of course, no Pope. They returned 
with the silver culla or cradle, with the figure of an in- 
fant on the top, and this they bore in procession into one 
of the side-chapels. At this stage we all departed ; and, 
bitterly cold, I got to bed soon after six. 

" Dec. 25. — Slept till nearly ten, and woke refreshed, 
thinking of the glad event which this day is selected to 
commemorate. So rose, and being too late for St. Peter's 
and even for the English Chapel — feeling, too, the need of 



292 



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retirement and spiritual repose, remained the forenoon at 
home. Kead the narrative in the four Gospels, the 
Church of England service, and looked over some Koman 
Catholic books of devotion, till two ; then to St. Peter's. 
The music there fine, and had some sweet thoughts. 

" Called on Hemans ; papers briefly, and at nine to the 
Acworths, by invitation, to tea. Most delightful evening ; 
the Hastings there. At the end, the dear Archdeacon (Hod- 
son), whose voice reminds me so much of Eev. C. Brown's, 
read some verses from Philippians on our Lord's humilia- 
tion, and exhorted us most beautifully, by His example, to 
humility and the denial of self, concluding with a prayer 
full of UDction. Often have I longed for such social reli- 
gious communion ; and to-night my heart literally over- 
flowed with gratitude to God and love to His dear ser- 
vant, apparently so endowed with his Master's spirit. 
Home early, walking part of way with Mr. Gordon, a 
young English clergyman, here for his health. Father, 
to Thy name be praise for this day's mercies in Christ ! 

" Dec. 28. — My dear mother's birthday, of whom my 
thoughts have been very full. Heavenly Father, multi- 
ply to her abundantly grace, mercy, and peace ; how 
great a blessing the good news I have received from her 
all the time of my absence hitherto I Continue, Lord, 
Thy loving-kindness ; and if it be Thy gracious will, spare 
us to meet again, and to labour together in Thy sendee, 
and make me the comfort and support of her declining 
years, for Jesus Christ's sake ! 

"Dec. 31. — At dinner, a travelling wine merchant 
from Montauban, whom I have met there repeatedly, 
showed me an infinitesimal portion of the true cross, pasted 
on red ribbon, within a little crucifix, and accompanied 
with a printed authenticate, and the signature of the 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



293 



Bishop (Castellani) from whom it had been got. He 
had procured it for his wife, who is a strict Catholic : 
also a small portion of the bones of St. Augustine. With- 
out implying doubt of its authenticity, I spoke to him of 
the cross still more real, that every Christian can and ought 
to bear in his heart and life. We had some further con- 
versation on the essentials of religion, which I thought 
better than to attack him in bad French on the errors of 
Eomanism. 

" The last day of the year. Again, as throughout the 
day, I desire to humble myself under a sense of unworthi- 
ness, and innumerable sins and shortcomings throughout 
its course, hiding myself under the covert of my Saviour's 
atonement and obedience. In Thee, Lord, is all my 
hope for the year to come ; but through Thee, I can do 
all things, overcome temptation, renounce self, and bring 
forth the fruits of love to God and man, unto Thy praise 
and glory. undertake for me, and accomplish great 
things in me and by me ! Confessing, thanking, and 
casting myself on Christ for pardon and strength, I close 
a year of absence from home, of living among strangers, 
of wanderings, of experience, and of signal mercies.' 7 



29i 



MEMORIALS OF 



CHAPTER XII. 

ROME, 1850 LETTER3 AND JOURNALS LETTER TO HIS YOUNGEST SIS- 
TER TO A. BURN MURDOCH, ESQ. SERVICE IN THE GREEK CHURCH 

OF ST. ATHANASIA VISIT TO THE GHETTO THE PROPAGANDA 

CATECHIZING IN CHURCH OF SAN ANDREA TOUR TO THE COUNTRY 

OF THE iENEID — RAPHAEL'S PICTURE OF THE TRANSFIGURATION 

THE JEWS. 

TO HIS YOUNGEST SISTER. 

" Eome, Jan. 2, 1850. 
" This is the first time I have written 1850, and it 
comes strange to my hand. I can hardly believe that 
we are already half-way through the nineteenth century ; 
and certainly never was that imaginary wall which 
separates one year from another passed by me more im- 
perceptibly, though not, I trust, without earnest endea- 
vours to make it a religious epoch in my personal history. 
Yet so it is ; we have entered on another conventional 
division of time ; and I fancy there is no reflecting person 
but says, in looking back on the past, 4 1 have cause for 
thanksgiving and humiliation ; ' in looking out on the 
future, i I resolve, in divine grace, on a more consistent, 
loyal, and loving life towards God and my fellow-men. ' 
Such, from the tone of your last letters, is, I doubt not, 
your frame of mind ; and may the God of all mercy, the 
Saviour of all compassion, and the Holy Spirit of resistless 
power, give you strength to fulfil, nay, to surpass your 
resolutions. What He may be teaching you, you yourself 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



295 



know best, for none can tell it for another ; but through 
many various ways He calls us into His fold — and that 
His eye and love are upon you, is my fond hope and 
fervent prayer. ... I was truly happy to hear of the plea- 
sant impressions with which you left ; and you may 

deem yourself happy that the age is not past when any- 
thing in life can be called balmy and enchanting. That 
spontaneous effluence of youth must with youth, I fear, 
pass away from us all, and the enjoyment must then come 
from perhaps a higher region of our nature, but by a more 
laborious and uncertain process, I am not sure but that 
I should write to you from Eome as I did from Geneva, 
and possibly should from any other given quarter of the 
globe, that the poetry of our own bonny north is greater, 
and its associations more trumpet- ton gued than those of 
the Forum or the Vatican — it may be, than Athens and 
Jerusalem ; but no, this last, and all the other melting 
names of Scripture, are part and parcel of the favoured 
class which we have learned at our mother's knees on 
Sabbath evenings, and by the domestic hearth. Yet 
Rome is a thrilling place, absolutely inexhaustible in its 
power of awakening echoes, and touching chords that 
vibrate through the whole being. Sometimes for a mo- 
ment you wander forth, as though the dust you tread 
upon were common ground ; but anon, some sight or 
sound — or it may be no sight or sound at all, but a flash 
of consciousness — brings the fact before your mind, and 
you feel inclined to take the shoes from off your feet, and 
move on in holy reverential mood. I am sometimes op- 
pressed with the multitude of memories, and the eagerness 
on the spot to probe more deeply this, to follow out that 
train of thought already known, while it is impossible 
to do all, or nearly all. In this cold weather, fiercely 



296 



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cold — for such a winter has been rarely known at Eome 
— it is not so easy to stand and dream among hills and 
monuments, the hands finding their way too readily into 
the breeches pockets, and the nose hanging out signals 
of distress. I accordingly betake myself more to the 
ceremonies in the churches, which afford a fine oppor- 
tunity of actually becoming acquainted with the ritual, 
observances, and teaching of the Church of Eome. Young 
Hemans (I wrote some of you that I had made acquaint- 
ance with the youngest son of the poetess) is often my 
guide on such occasions — he is unfortunately a converted 
Catholic — and I can fully understand here what are the 
outward and esthetic attractions of the system, not to 
speak of its inward adaptations to human nature. No- 
thing can exceed the grandeur and soothing softness of 
the music on their great occasions, or the artistic effect 
of light and ornament in their churches. Advent, Christ- 
mas, and Lent now approaching, besides special feasts, are 
important epochs in their Christian year, and contain, as 
was to be expected, a large amount of what is good in 
their manner of celebration, mingled with very much 
that is objectionable. However, I do not come as a 
ready-made John Knox to the study, but with the wish 
to pass through the successive stages of the Keformation 
for myself, independently of Luther and the rest. Actual 
Eome, apart from its religious aspect, offers many features 
of interest, whether in its people, its customs, or its en- 
virons ; including, of course, those Apennines, whose very 
name is magic, and the Campagna — vast, melancholy, 
and majestic ! Summer, however, lends to all these a 
arge portion of their mystery and enchantment, although 
we have days even now when the heavens look so limpid 
and transparent, that you could almost think to pierce 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



297 



thern, and discover the inner heaven itself, yet the lights 
on the mountains are not so apparent ; and you may 
traverse the Campagna as you would a moor, instead of 
visiting it, so to speak, only by stratagem, and, as it were, 
under pain of death from its invisible malaria. Still old 
Tiber is always there ; the ruins shout the glorious great- 
ness of other days, and so predominate over modern Eome 
as to give it the appearance, as has been said, of a city 
of pilgrims encamping under their shadow. After full 
two months of a sort of wild abandon, unbroken by the 
sight of a single familiar face, my friends have suddenly 
turned up — a position, you will say, by no means un- 
natural for me ; I am here with a very small amount of 
toggery, having sent most of my effects from Switzerland 
to Berlin, in expectation of being there this winter. I 
cannot afford a fresh rig, but manage audaciously to go. 
about in mufty — a wholesome restraint perhaps on over- 
dissipation. This small anecdote will remind you of old 
times, and show you, that amid all the divinizing influ- 
ences of Eome, I am still human. But enough of self; 
exit Jack, having already well-nigh filled two pages. If 
mother has not previously read this letter, you will write 
to her of it, and say that if not in my arms, at least in 
my heart, I carried her about with me the whole of the 
28th of December, and even hope she had a conscious- 
ness of my so doing, although I could not manage to 
make a letter fall in on that day." 

TO A. BURN MURDOCH, ESQ. 

u Eome, Jan. 13, 1850. 
M Were it not for my firm belief in the leadings of God's 
providence, I should regret your not sharing with me 
this chapter in my education at Eome — for I think we 



298 



MEMORIALS OF 



are entered on a time when all our hereditary religious 
opinions must be revised, and adopted anew from a more 
personal, and therefore profound persuasion of their truth. 
Now the Eoman Catholic question assuredly takes its 
place among the renascent forms of religious, opinions ; 
and I am persuaded had you been here, you would have 
undergone, in regard to it, a somewhat analogous process 
to that which you may now be conscious of having under- 
gone last winter. I am not yet conscious of all the results 
of my present study and observations — so it would be rash 
to pronounce upon them ; but this I do feel more and 
more, that Popery is more plausible than we think it, and 
less easily to be confuted in detail ; in short, that it shades 
off from true Christianity often so imperceptibly at first, 
that it is only when you look at the grand result you can 
entertain that horror of it, and bestow that condemnation 
on the system, which it merits. I came to Eome believ- 
ing that all its more controverted errors were gross and 
palpable. I am daily persuaded more and more that it 
is not so ; and therefore I see how difficult must be the 
emancipation of any one from its thraldom, and how easy, 
in certain cases, the reimposition of that thraldom on 
those who have been born free. Should God spare us to 
meet again, I shall have much to say on this score, but 
a letter is not the place for it. 

u As you conjecture, God has very graciously given me 
not a few friends here, after a time of loneliness, but not 
dulness. Mr. and Mrs. Forbes, whom we saw at Geneva, 
live close by me, and are most affectionate, as well as 
delightful people. Through them, I was introduced to 
Archdeacon Hodson and his family ; he is one of the most 
beautiful specimens of a Christian minister I have known, 
so holy and so humble. takes me occasionally to 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



299 



walk with him, as well as visiting at his house, and I 
love his company. 

" I am studying the formularies of the Eoman Catholic 
Church, as well as her practice, and propose soon to begin 
the Catechism of the Council of Trent, and other ex- 
ponents and defences of her theology. For labours I 
have little apparent field, but occasionally I visit in the 
Ghetto, and, besides the spirit of inquiry which this 
excites in my own mind, may hope that tracts and con- 
versation will be blessed. Mr. Wingate, the Jewish 
missionary at Leghorn, furnished me with some tracts, 
&c, before coming here." 

Diary. — " Sunday, Jan. 6. — After ten, to St. Athanasia, 
the Greek Church, where, after long delay, saw part of 
very stately Greek service. The Archbishop entered, a 
tall dignified-looking man with flowing black beard, clad 
at first in purple, with gold chain round his neck, and 
purple veil over his head, which was soon removed. After 
kissing successively a picture of the Virgin and Christ, in 
front of the altar, and blessing the people with a triple 
taper in one hand, and a double in the other, to signify 
the Trinity and the two natures of Christ ; he took his 
seat upon a throne at the side, where with much rever- 
ence he was gradually robed in the sumptuous garments 
of the altar — a crown of gold being placed upon his 
head. So accoutred, he received his crozier, and took his 
seat upon the throne, with all the dignity of a royal priest. 
No instrumental music ; but a full choir raised a magni- 
ficent Greek anthem, which, resounding through the com- 
paratively small church, seemed to swell the soul, and 
bear it aloft on angels' pinions. The service was now 
commenced, but being unwilling again, to-day, to lose 



300 



MEMORIALS OF 



the opportunity of taking the sacrament, I quitted and 
repaired to the English Church ; arrived there just at 
the conclusion of the Litany. Although wretched from 
cold, swelled face, &c, enjoyed the communion very 
much, and think I had some real communion with God. 

" Jan, 12. — At ten, to Ghetto, with intention of visit- 
ing synagogue. God seemed to lead me ; for a Jew, 
whom I afterwards found to be the sacristan, immediately 
came forward and offered to show me the schools, z.e., the 
synagogues. There are no less than five of these beneath 
one roof, in a square which takes its name from them, 
near the Piazza di Santa Maria in Pianto. Three of 
these are below, two above, and they correspond with the 
five parishes into which the Ghetto is divided. The 
upper ones are even handsome. Opposite the pulpit in 
each, is a recess in the wall containing the Holy Scrip- 
tures, with a curtain in front and other ornaments. The 
walls are inscribed with texts in Hebrew — the pulpit is 
large and handsome. At the door is a large marble 
trough, for performing ablutions before entering ; hats are 
worn during service, to show that outward observance is of 
no avail. Many of the men had short white tunics, with 
cords at the four corners, to symbolize the omnipresence 
of the Deity. A small concealed gallery above, like 
that for nuns in Eoman Catholic churches, is apportioned 
to the women, who are not required to take part in public 
services, or even, so far as I could learn, in private de- 
votions. The hours of service on Saturday are half-past 
eight, mid-day, and three o'clock. I was shown copies of 
the Pentateuch and their ritual, with the prayers, hymns, 
and selections from Scripture — on one side Hebrew, on 
the other Italian. I was able to have a long discussion 
with the sacristan, whose replies were very evasive, when 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



301 



I pressed him on the meaning of the ancient sacrifices. 
His little boys joined us — dear little Israelites, and very 
intelligent. I made one of them read a part of a psalm, 
and compared my pronunciation with his. The little 
fellow was very particular to know of whom I had learnt 
— a Hebrew or a Gentile. 

" On quitting the sacristan, who promised on a future 
day to take me to the schools for education, I went into 
one of the synagogues where mid-day service had already 
commenced ; seeing the Bible borne in procession to the 
pulpit, many kissing the trappings with which it was 
covered, I asked some questions of a better-class Jew 
standing by me. He answered in good English, and 
finally I found that he was used to give lessons in Hebrew 
to English novices — Mr. Hutcheson, for example. TTe 
spoke on many points, and he told me he had already 
written a work against the belief that Christ had come. 
The Xew Testament he often read, and admired its high 
moral code. He offered to call on me and show me this, 
as well as a method he had for teaching Hebrew. At 
last I arranged to go to him next Tuesday evening, his 
time being more engrossed than mine. 

" After leaving him, and observing the ceremonies as 
well as some awisos posted on the walls, and bearing re- 
cord to the recent formation of a society to secure more 
decorum in public worship. I left the synagogue ; some 
young men in front arrested my attention — I put a topo- 
graphical question to one of them, whose open ingenuous 
countenance pleased me. By degrees we got to talk of 
the Messiah, and here again I was able to present strongly 
to them the difficulty of accounting for the ancient sacri- 
fices, except as typical of Christ the great sacrifice for 
sin, who should thus come first in humiliation. I alluded 



302 



MEMORIALS OF 



to Isaiah, liii. ; and then, as indeed I had said at starting, 
I agreed with them in looking for His glorious coming, to 
give deliverance to His people, and perhaps restore the 
J ews to their own land. The young men seemed to like 
the discussion, especially when bearing on the bright side 
of the promises to their nation ; but fearing observation, 
as I suspect, many passing and repassing from the syna- 
gogue, they cordially pressed my hand and departed. Sons 
of Abraham, I said to them, I love you for your fathers' 
sake, and, so saying, bade them adieu. 

" Jan. 17. — We (Hemans and I) went alone to see the 
Propaganda. An English student and an American re- 
ceived us with a kindness and courtesy unfailing among 
Roman Catholic clergy and students. We proceeded 
through the establishment, which is vast in extent, and 
appears to be arranged on principles of method the most 
consummate. The training I understood to embrace ten 
years, though many may come up so far prepared as to 
shorten the curriculum. Of these are devoted to grammar 
(Latin, Italian, &c.) two, Khetoric two, and Philosophy 
other two. Under these heads a wide range of study is 
embraced. Four are then devoted to Theology, where 
Hebrew, Church History, and the Evidences, occupy the 
first ; Church History, Morals, and Dogmatic, the second ; 
Church History, Dogmatic, and Hebrew Exegesis, the 
third ; Dogmatic, &c, the fourth. I saw many of their 
text-books, of which Palma's Church History arrested 
my attention. The different years have camerate, or 
ranges of chambers, assigned them ; sometimes, however, 
two years are put together, so that the earner ate vary 
from six to seven. The younger years are in one . large 
hall, where each has his little dormitory at the side, and 
a table and bookcase in the hall. The more advanced 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



303 



have each their room. A prefect presides over each 
camerata — one of the more advanced students in theology. 
Lecturers come in to prelect on the various subjects, and, 
in some cases, students from other Colleges — as the Irish 
— are admitted to these lectures. There are two annual 
examinations — the last occupying more than a week — 
conducted in writing ; and these being all successfully 
passed, (priest's) orders are conferred. For D.D. a differ- 
ent ordeal is undergone. The daily hours are such as 
these : — Kise at half-past five ; chapel at six ; breakfast 
at seven ; study from half- past seven to half-past eight ; 
lectures, half-past eight ; at half-past ten study again ; 
dinner at half-past eleven, preceded by a quarter of an 
hour's examination of conscience in chapel ; after dinner, 
conversation and recreation for an hour ; then one to 
three, study ; two hours 7 walk before the Ave Maria ; five 
to eight, study ; then supper, conversation, and all to bed 
by ten. Thus they have nine hours' study, including 
lectures. The scholastic year lasts from November to 
August, with a few holidays interspersed, and every 
Thursday. In August they relax, and in September go to 
a country seat they have at Frascati, where they spend 
very happily six weeks of summer. I was introduced to 
Chinese, Armenians, Turks, Syrians, Africans, &c. &c. 
All seemed happy and united, and pervaded with courtesy. 
We saw the refectory, where all take meals together, 
substantial and plain ; also some smaller libraries, but 
had not time on this occasion to see the great library and 
museum. Their own little libraries seemed well sup- 
plied. I made the acquaintance of two Scottish students ; 

who recited on Sunday, and whose hearty 

Highland accent and loving expression took me very 
much. They both invited me to come and see them, 



304 



MEMORIALS OF 



winch I offered to do, informing them, of course, that I 
was Protestant. I was anxious to know of some history 
of this great institution ; but none such appears to be 
published. Their own records are most complete. Every 
student who goes out as missionary must write them at 
least once a year, and he is answered. The College was 
founded by Urban VIII. in 1627, and San Carlo Boro- 
meo drew up its first rules : the wealth is very great. 
A Jesuit, by a papal bull, must always be its rector. 

" Sunday, Feb. 3. — Forenoon, sacrament. Good even- 
ing, and formed many resolutions of diligence, but espe- 
cially of a life more entirely surrendered to the will and 
service of God, and the love and good of my fellows ; 
for all which, Lord, my sufficiency is in Thee. 

u Feb. 15.— Evening ; finished Arnold's Journal of 
Tours. Heavenly Father, enable me to live more entirely 
for Thee, and for my neighbour. I feel deeply how vain 
is any knowledge or attainment, in comparison with love 
that goes out in benevolence and well-doing. 

" Feb. 18. — An Irish farmer, whom I had formerly met, 
overtook me at the Arch of Gallienus, walking home to 
his farm, about five miles off, on the same road ; heat 
very great, and dust, but air and sky delicious ; he talked 
of farming, Ireland, &c. We passed the Mausoleum of 
Helena, and finally parted within sight of his farm, be^ 
longing to the Prince Borghese, an oasis in the Campagna, 
an old tower amid a clump of pines. Nothing could 
exceed the glorious splendour of the view. The Alban 
hills seemed close at hand, and I could converse with 
Cicero at Tusculum. Prameste and the Tivoli line 
equally beautiful. The aqueducts and the Campagna — 
a poem grander than was ever sung. I lay down and 
surrendered myself to the ecstasy of the day and scene. 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



305 



Roman history appeared a reality ; its wars, its camps, 
its soldiers, its men of eloquence and letters, its majestic 
province of 1 to conquer.' The Eoman lines of Yirgil on 
this, occurred to me as containing the essence of her 
destiny, and given in words whose very sound testifies 
to their spirit. Above me, the merry lark shouted, and 
by its shout increased the melancholy ; troops of crows 
croaked of centuries gone by. With difficulty I turned 
my face once more towards home. 

u Feb. 21. . . . reminds me in appearance, habits, 

and other associations, most touchingly of my father. The 
Lord bless him for this resemblance ! 

u Feb. 24. — At two to San Andrea, where listened to 
catechizing ; much shocked at want of order among the 
boys, and want of reverence in treating the sacred sub- 
jects alike on part of boys and priests. How different 
from our own clear Sabbath-schools ! He first questioned 
them on the Incarnation, then on the Trinity in unity, 
then on the Sacraments, tempting them to answer with 
promise of bajocchi. One boy was asked the meaning 
of a mystery, and if, e.g., there was any mystery in a 
scudo. I understood him to reply, 1 No — for there were 
never three scudi in one ; 1 at which the priest was so 
highly tickled, that he rewarded him on the spot. He 
asked them which was the most important sacrament, to 
which different answers were returned ; but he admitted 
baptism, because it was the door to all the rest. Tran- 
substantiation was broadly explained , to them ; and then 
he asked if any one could effect this change by repeat- 
ing the necessary prayer. Could an Emperor, could the 
blessed Mary ? — no, only the priest. Who instituted the 
Seven Sacraments? Was it the pretaccif — no, Christ 
Himself. How many characters could they have ? — two, 

u 



306 



MEMORIALS OF 



for the living and the dead (of this last I am not quite 
sure). He frequently appealed to me, and blamed the 
boys much for their pertness and bad behaviour. When 
concluded, he came up to me, and asked if I was Pro- 
testant or Catholic, and seemed a little staggered at my 
telling him the former. The service concluded with the 
Litany to the Virgin. He asked me how I was pleased ; 
I replied I should have been more so had it been a prayer 
to Christ. 1 But who gave Him birth?' he asked ; 'do 
you not believe in her eternal purity ? ; I replied, 4 Only 
in a sense/ 1 But the Supreme Pontiff has lately declared 
it, and all he says ex cathedra he says with the Spirit, 
and is therefore infallible. 1 To this I demurred. * Ah ! 1 
said he, i Melancthon, great Melancthon, introduced marry 
heresies ; ' and then he proceeded to assert that a dislike 
to the restraints of the Church on the subject of marriage, 
&c, was at the bottom of his opposition. He was an 
undignified, vulgar little man, though brisk. One little 
fellow, brought into his class by his nurse, immediately 
knelt before him, and folded his hands. He laughed 
heartily, and raised him up, saying : 4 What ! my boy, 
do you take me for the Pope?' On going out, boys, 
nurses, &c, came up and kissed his hand. An urchin 
did the same to me two days ago, as I was standing in 
the Forum, taking me, his mother said, for a priest or 
teacher ! 

" Monday, Feb. 25. — To Museum of Capitol, and 
studied lower room. My special trial is, that, loving 
solitude, I seem nowhere and seldom to find it. I feel, 
however, that this discipline of having to renounce my 
own way, is more useful than probably all the thoughts 
and reflections that solitude might breed. I therefore at 
times can bless God for the trial, and desire to have my 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



307 



will merged in His more habitually. The Greek basso 
relievos, and the old fresco paintings interested, delighted 
me exceedingly ; home by the Esquiline and the sweet 
grove there, attached, I believe, to the Convent of St. 
Francesco e Paolo, where all the birds of Eome seem to 
unite for their evening song. Evening, read Dante, Grill, 
and prepared for tour to country of the iEneicl to-morrow, 
starting (d.v.) by steamer for Ostia at six a.m. My 
Father, shield me from all danger, and bless it to me 
in body and mind. 

" Wednesday, Feb. 27. — The banks of the Tiber are 
now bare enough, with here and there glades of wood ; 
yet I enjoyed the sail profoundly, from its associations, and 
read some of the iEneid, which I carried in my pocket. 

u Ostia stands some two miles inland. The traces of 
ruins were abundant, standing up among the sprouting 
corn, whose very soil is formed by their mouldering. 
One temple still remains in considerable preservation, 
with quantities of marble slabs, and capitols scattered 
round. The sight was affecting. A castle and very small 
hamlet attached, constitutes the whole of modern Ostia. 
The woods between this and the mouth of the river 
looked most attractive beneath the glowing sky, and 
might have been such as Virgil has described in the 
landing of the Trojans. 

" From Ostia, I made for Castel Fusano — a villa be- 
longing to the Chigi family, and embedded in a deli- 
cious forest of pines, and other stately trees. Passing 
the mansion, I followed a road to the coast, as Torre 
Paterno, the next object of my search, lay upon the 
beach, and could be more certainly found in this manner. 
Nothing could exceed the beauty of the Mediterranean, 
or my joy in walking along so close that its billows laved 



308 



MEMORIALS OF 



my feet. Some six miles brought me to the ancient 
tower, attached to a farm-house, which is supposed to 
mark the site of the ancient Laurentium. A coast-guard 
station is also here ; and rinding the deputy superintend- 
ing a group of picturesque fishermen, who were landing 
their nets, I was conducted by him to the farm-house, 
and there entertained most hospitably on bread, wine, 
eggs, and cheese, for which all remuneration was stead- 
fastly refused by the worthy farmer. 

4 1 From this point, Pratica was visible at the distance 
of some seven miles, standing on a commanding eminence 
and separated from us by a macchia or copse forest. 
Knowing the difficulty of finding a path through such a 
country, I again took the beach, being assured that when 
about four miles on, at a ruined castle of the Borghese, 
I should find a road leading straight to Pratica. Night 
was closing in, and the sun had just set, when I reached 
this tower. The next coast-guard tower, to which I had 
also been recommended as a shelter for the night, ap- 
peared in sight ; but I resolved to try and make for 
Pratica. After wandering long through the forest, fol- 
lowing uncertain paths, and at length coming upon an ex- 
tensive marsh, I thought it prudent to retrace my steps, if 
possible ; and, guided by the noise of the sea, succeeded, to 
my great joy, in regaining its shores. I then pushed on 
by the solemn star-light until I reached the tower, just 
as the moon was rising in the east. I entered and ex- 
plained my wishes. The deputy, with his wife and family 
crowded into two little rooms, could do little for my 
lodging, but the corporal and his soldiers agreed to give 
me one in their barrack. Meanwhile, the worthy couple 
made me welcome to what supper they had — eggs, bread, 
wine, sausage almonds — so that I came off pretty well. 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



309 



The conversation flowed pleasantly and freely, and in due 
time I retired. 

" Thursday, Feb. 28. — My bed was one of three in the 
soldiers' barrack-roorn. Clean sheets were spread on it ; 
but ere five minutes elapsed, I was attacked by legions. 
The situation was not pleasant, and being in the room 
with others, I could not be so free in my movements ; 
however, the greater part of the night I sat by my bed- 
side in great agony, and occasionally lay down upon it in 
greater. Towards five in the morning I ascended to the 
top of the tower, and there sat down, enjoying the balmy 
air — the moonlight on the water, and the dim expanse of 
country, so renowned in ancient story. At daybreak I 
washed, and was regaled by my hostess with some famous 
coffee ; for which, as for last night's entertainment, all 
remuneration was refused. Then bade them farewell, 
gave the soldier a trifle, and took the road for Pratica. 

" Nothing could exceed the beauty of the lawms and 
woods, gilded by the morning light, and fresh with dew 
that spread along this coast, and extended upwards to- 
wards Pratica. Situated on its eminence, it was easily 
made for. A ravine on either side, richly cultivated, 
forms a tongue of land, on part of which stands the pre- 
sent village — seme few filthy houses surmounted by a 
tower and castle, belonging to the Prince Borghese. The 
ancient town must have covered all this previously. I 
skirted the town, and descended into the ravine, which 
meets another also richly wooded, and which, at right 
angles to the former, stretches beautifully to the sea. 
Leaving this Lavinium — the grandmother so to speak 
of Eome — I directed my steps towards Arclea, pass- 
ing through some pleasant watered valleys, making my 
seven miles nine, by a needless detour. On the way I 



310 



MEMORIALS OF 



rested at a grand butter-dairy, belonging to the Prince 
Cesarini, where the milk of some thousand cows is 
churned and sent to Kome. Ardea, which I also latterly- 
approached by the Koman road, is very strikingly situated 
on a bold rocky hill, with a ravine on either side, and 
connected with the high ground behind by a narrow 
isthmus, so as to be rather a peninsula than an island. In 
general appearance it was not unlike the Aventine. It is 
still walled all round, and I should think, the walls were 
of some antiquity ; though a priest assured me this was 
not really the» ancient Ardea. Be this as it may, the 
situation, as corresponding with the name, is very strik- 
ing. The modern little town covers little of the enclosed 
space. The view of the Alban hills was unspeakably 
touching and attractive ; for so they must have appeared 
in ancient days, when the Koman army lay in siege be- 
fore it, on the eve of the expulsion of Superbus, and 
afterwards when it became the scene of many deeds of 
prowess. But, of course, Turnus and his Eutuli were 
here chiefly present to my mind. 

u From Ardea I followed an excellent road to the shore, 
which I reached at Forte Lorenzo, consequently about 
twelve miles from Porto d'Ango. I again had some bread 
and wine at a large dairy establishment, where they make 
frutto di latte out of buffalo's milk — it is also for the 
Koman market. Following the coast, I could not resist 
the pleasure of bathing in the smiling waters. This on 
the last day of February, and how delicious ! I then 
pursued my solitary way, until towards sunset ; I passed 
another fort — the last that separated me from Porto 
d'Ango. The coast here began to present a rocky appear- 
ance, instead of the usual sand-line that separated it 
from the fields. Long after dusk, when I thought I 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



311 



should be now near my haven, but saw no lights, my course 
was suddenly interrupted by the sea coming close up to 
the base of the rocks, and dashing against them and their 
toppled boulders. As I was unable to scale the cliffs, and 
trusted in the dark this interruption might be only casual, 
owing to high water, I took off my boots, and boldly 
walked in. Soon, however, the water reached my waist : 
it was necessary to hold my coat in the air to keep its 
pocketfuls dry, and I stumbled over the rocks, and got 
into holes not a little alarming. I had already proceeded 
a good way ; but thought it prudent to return, which 
I did, with difficulty. Then putting on my shoes, and 
shivering with wet and cold, retraced my steps, very 
thankful that I had come by no more than a ducking in 
my rashness. 

" The thoughts of Porto d'Ango — a good inn, food and 
sleep, were gradually receding from my vision, when I 
espied a point where I thought the rocks might be scaled. 
I attempted and succeeded, and found myself immediately 
on a delicious sward, without macchia or underwood, and 
so paced on rapidly in the right direction. Soon the 
welcome lights gleamed before me. I passed a cottage 
whence voices proceeded, and, on entering, found a party 
of young vine- dressers gathered near a blazing fire, and 
making their evening meal on a large polenta cake, to 
which they invited me. The most grateful news was 
that Porto d'Ango was close at hand, and one of them 
accompanied me, and set me on the track. Nothing has 
struck me more than the superiority of character on this 
coast to what I have hitherto met in the beaten road of 
the Eoman States. As I descended on Porto d'Ango, 
the effect was magical. A light gleamed at the extremity 
of the modern harbour : directly opposite was what at 



312 



MEMORIALS OF 



first appeared a magnificent Bude light, and for such I 
took it ; until its slow ascent and silver sheen upon the 
waters revealed the queen of heaven, thus lowered for a 
moment to hold fellowship with earth. 

" The first person I accosted was mine host, otherwise 
Neapolitan consul, who conducted me to his superb hotel, 
whilome the Palazzo Albano ; had there a cheerful fire 
kindled in the splendid hall, sent me dry clothes and 
ordered supper, during the preparation of which I re- 
galed myself on the balcony, gazing on the sea heaving 
its quiet murmur, interrupted for a time by the Maltese 
hymn, chanted by some fishermen, ere they retired to 
rest. The stillness, the beauty, the poetry of the scene 
can never be effaced, while all that made Antium famous 
in days of yore passed before my mind, and my thoughts 
ended with those grander themes, that the moon, and the 
stars, and the ocean awaken, as forming a link to us with 
the invisible world. 

" I retired to a comfortable bed, with feelings of love 
and gratitude incommunicable. 

"Friday, March 1. — After breakfast sallied forth to 
hunt for ruins, if such there were. Eealized very vividly 
the famous events that happened here — the rostra cap- 
tured from the ships and carried to the Forum — the flight 
and afterwards death of Coriolanus, and more recently 
the birth and residence of Nero. I thought I could make 
out the probable precincts of the fortifications. On fol- 
lowing it to the rocky coast, I came upon vast fragments 
and remains of walls and palaces, caves and brickwork, 
in many places fallen entire into the sea. On one spot, 
near the present port, marble pillars, capitols, and pave- 
ments had been laid open, telling of some temple or im- 
perial palace. The mole of Nero is still very eiftire ; and 



J OHN MA C KIN T S II . 



indeed the present quay seems to stand on another mole 
or breakwater equally ancient. The chapel, and greater 
part of the houses of the present port, stand on this. The 
views over the sea, of Ischia in the distance ; nearer, 
Monte Felice ; the old promontory of Circe, and behind 
which is Gaeta ; the lofty continuation of the Apennines, 
not visible from Eome, with the Pontine marshes between 
them and the sea : Xettuno on its striking knoll, about a 
mile along the coast from Porto d'Ango ; all these objects 
were lovely and delightful. 

" At four o'clock I then set off for a twenty- two miles' 
walk, over an unknown country to an unknown town — 
the evening was lovely. My way ascended through a 
long maccliia. and so continued until night closed in. My 
thoughts were all the while actively and happily em- 
ployed. At long intervals I would pass a hamlet ; the 
night air made walking easy, and the stars were never- 
failing company and food for meditation. Several times, 
as I advanced on my path, I made inquiries at the cot- 
tages, exciting in them much alarm, till I was seen ; and 
then being dismissed with a warning against the numer- 
ous robbers in the country. However, I felt no fear. 

"My pleasure, these past days, and the way in which I 
have been allowed to achieve my plan, without accident 
or interruption, filled my heart with gratitude, and I was 
now lying down to sleep not far from the site of Alba 
Longa. 

"Saturday. March 2. — After breakfast walked through 
town, and ascended to Albano Lake, about half a mile off. 
Its beauty charmed me. with Monte Can overhanging ; 
Rocca di Papa on its further side, and Castel Gandolfo 
on this. The russet tinge of the still bewintered trees 
had a fine effect, and altogether I thought I had seen 



314 



MEMORIALS OF 



nothing yet so thoroughly Italian. Eead Virgil by banks 
of lake ; then by Castel Gandolfo to Appian way, which 
I traced back to Eome— a distance of about eleven miles. 
At the Albano end, some portions of the side parapets 
were very entire ; the monuments, more than a hundred 
in number, lined the whole road. Towards dark I once 
more entered Eome — very weary, but very grateful and 
happy. 

" Saturday, March 16. — Good view of Ghetto from the 
island. The current of the river breaks against the 
houses, whose appearance is most squalid. Some Jewish 
children were playing in a sort of verandah high up over 
the river, and many females were visible at the windows. 
How different this from the lakes, and mountains, and 
pleasant valleys of Palestine, where they might be in- 
habiting beneath a delicious sky, and amid fresh, odori- 
ferous breezes ! Lord, hasten their return for the fathers' 
sake, for Thy dear Son's sake, for the Church's sake ! 

" March 22. — To the Picture Gallery ; and, oh ! the 
Transfiguration ! I found it impossible not to weep, hav- 
ing never read one word about it, but just surrendering 
myself to its own effect. Our Lord's figure — how 
sublime ! — what serenity, what peace, what a heaven 
about Him, in Him ! what graciousness and benignity ! 
I have seen no conception more satisfactory ; not, how- 
ever, that it is so, by any means. Moses and Eli as are 
pretty good as to conception ; two others, on the Mount, 
I could not explain, till I find that they are a base com- 
pliance with the selfish wish of some cardinal — a patron 
of the fine arts, and man of taste forsooth ! The apostles 
are excellent, and characteristic. The scene below, for 
contrast and effect, inimitable. Of course it is strictly 
true to the Scripture account, and literally taken from it, 



JOHN MACKINTOSH, 



315 



though Lanzi and others look upon it as a happy idea of 
Raphael's, and wholly misinterpret it. The friends of the 
possessed are disappointed and indignant that the disciples 
cannot cure their child. The apostles themselves are 
surprised and vexed at their failure. The father's coun- 
tenance eagerly expresses this, and so do theirs — accord- 
ing to the narrative — ' Lord, why could not we cast him 
out?' The possessed child is admirably done ; and the 
countenances, expression, colouring, and effect of the 
whole, matchless. It is undoubtedly to my mind the 
greatest picture I have ever seen ; and its history, 
when known, greatly enhances this feeling of pathetic 
interest. 

" April 5. — Lord r give me to live in the sunshine of 
Thy favour, and in continual dependence on Thee. My 
mercies, how many, and how undeserved ! 

" April 7. — My great want here is intimate, social, 
Christian communion. My soul longs for this, especially 
when I am feeble in body and spirit, and need some such 
stimulus. In Thine own time, Lord, restore me to it ; 
meanwhile make Thy presence all-sufficient. When Thou 
sayest, ' Seek my face/ may my heart respond, 4 Thy face, 
Lord, will I seek ! ' 

" April 13. — Letter to-day from Mr. Wingate. The 
London Society have granted a case of Bibles to the Jews 
of Eome. I have also raised, through the liberality of 
friends, money for their temporal wants." 



316 



MEMORIALS OF 



CHAPTER XIII. 

LOVE OF TRUTH — LAST LETTER FROM ROME — TOUR TO NAPLES — SUD- 
DEN ATTACK OF ILLNESS LEAVES ROME JOURNEY NORTHWARD 

VENICE LETTER TO HIS SISTER, LADY GORDON CUMMIN Gr — LETTER 

TO A. BURN MURDOCH, ESQ. CROSSES THE ALPS INTO GERMANY. 

The reader of the Letters and Journals written by 
John Mackintosh while he resided in Kome, must have 
noticed the free and truthful spirit with which he ex- 
amined the principles and practices of the Bom an Catholic 
Church — not as described in books merely, but as exhi- 
bited in all their living reality, in the worship, institutions, 
and life of that Church in "the centre of Christendom, " 
beneath the eye, and under the immediate government of 
its visible, " infallible " head. 

The boldness and manly frankness with which Mack- 
intosh met the various forms of human thought and belief 
which presented themselves to him from time to time in 
his intercourse with mankind, was not that of one who is 
either indifferent to the claims of positive truth, or igno- 
rant of the terrible dangers to the soul from error. His 
was the courage rather which the conscious love of truth, 
and the possession at least of that measure of it which 
is essential to life eternal can alone inspire : for what he 
held fast as part of his very being, was the knowledge of 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



Jesus Christ as God manifest in the flesh ; and his " reli- 
gion" was personal love to this Saviour, more than to all 
else in the universe — a love which increased itself by daily 
intercourse with the Living One in earnest devotion ; by a 
habitual listening to His voice ; and by strict obedience 
to His will. With this light of love to God, and there- 
fore to man — guided by " knowledge " and "judgment," 
he examined with reverence whatever claimed his faith 
as belonging to the truth. He " tried the things that 
differed," and "the spirits whether they were of God,'' 
and the consequence was, that his possession of what was 
true became more firm and real ; while his knowledge of 
the subtleties and power of error awakened in him but 
keener sympathies for the wellbeing of those who were 
entangled in its meshes. 

One well able to judge of his character, who became 
acquainted with Mackintosh while in Borne, but who 
differed with him widely upon points of ecclesiastical 
government and discipline, writes to me of him thus : — 
" I thought his character a singularly pleasing one, both 
from his Christian simplicity and purity, and from the 
manly spirit of inquiry and active investigation with 
which he seemed to approach every subject which claimed 
his notice. With very strong feelings, he had, I used to 
think, remarkably little prejudice : and his disposition 
seemed always to be, to expect well of persons and 
systems, and to believe charitably of them, as long as 
he truthfully could." 

Having examined Eomanism with this spirit, the re- 
sults at which he arrived as to its character and ten- 
dencies as a system, are the more valuable. Some of 
these are expressed in the following letter, which he ad- 
dressed to me immediately before leaving Eome. 



318 



MEMORIALS OF 



" Rome, April 15, 1850. 
" A stave, dear JSTorman, ere I leave the Eternal City. 
I have lingered on in hopes of seeing his Holiness return ; 
and now he has come, and all that is inanimate has hung 
out signs of joy ; but no Eoman countenance is enlight- 
ened, nor aught but the utmost indifference expressed. 
Amid the thunders of cannon, preceded and followed by 
squadrons of cavalry, with some cardinals and ambassa- 
dors in his suite, the good old man entered by the Lateran 
gate, and alighted at the steps of the Great Basilikos. I 
was so near him as to mark his features well, and through 
them read his character — benevolence and mildness united 
with weakness and indecision, betokening little the re- 
former of his age, which he was once given out to be. 
He entered the church and knelt reverently before the 
altar, receiving the benediction of the host ; after which 
his cortege proceeded by the well-known papal route 
throughout the entire city, to the glorious Piazza of St. 
Peter's. Here he again alighted, and took part in the 
same ceremony within the church. It was filled with 
on-lookers— St. Peter's filled — think what a spectacle ! 
After this he retired to the Vatican, and at nightfall the 
usually dark and silent city was illuminated as only 
Italians know how to do it. The dome of Michael 
Angelo, like a heaven of light, was suspended within the 
dome of Nature, now beginning to assume its summer 
look of deep unfathomable blue, in which the stars are 
crystallized. Believe me, it is something to see this ! 
The Capitol, too, still lives for times of triumph. The 
three-sided court which crowns it, was one refulgent blaze 
of light, in which the antique statues of bronze and marble 
seemed to live, and take their willing share in a Christian 
festival. Bands of music filled the air with notes of joy 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



319 



and melody ; and all was merry, save the Eomans. To- 
night, a repetition of the same ; to-morrow also. In 
one word, all classes are deeply discontented ; but for the 
Pope and Popery, I don't think it matters one jot. They 
are a silly folk these Eomans ; they look like men, but 
are in fact mere children. They are uneducated — the 
best of them (not their fault, no doubt), and know no- 
thing of their own history except the few traditions that 
have come down to them, and nothing of what has gone 
on in Europe for the last thousand years ; so that it seems 
to them as if but yesterday the Caesars were masters of 
the universe. They have the same vanity as their pre- 
decessors, perhaps the same ambition, the same dishonesty, 
the same avarice ; but Providence has willed that the 
informing spirit should forsake them ; and a pitiable set 
they are, therefore, to all intents and purposes. I confess 
I have been among no people who grew upon me less 
through acquaintance. Generosity and disinterestedness 
seem to them unknown. They have no domestic hearths 
— no home — no heart. All along, their civic broils and 
feuds had no power seriously to affect the Popedom ; and 
so, I suppose, it will continue usque adfinem. 

" I shall say nothing in this letter of the mighty past, 
but confine myself to a few remarks on what has passed 
before my eyes, illustrative of Eomanism. So manifold, 
however, have been the subjects of study crowded into 
one short winter, that I do not feel satisfied with the time 
and opportunities I have been able to have, in order to 
acquaint myself with such a vast subject. It was very dif- 
ferent at Geneva. The book-knowledge of the system may 
be learned anywhere ; so it, too, I shall waive ; it will 
be enough to notice her ritual ceremonies, and apparent 
influence upon the people. I am disappointed with the 



320 



MEMORIALS OF 



former, striking as they often are ; for how can forms, 
multiplied and carried into detail, impress one who has 
understood, in some measure, the grandeur and simplicity 
of spiritual worship, and been taught, that such, under 
the new economy, the Father seeks ? In one word, their 
Christmas ceremonies, their Easter ceremonies, nay, their 
daily ceremonies, may have something in them which, 
when explained and studied, commends itself as beautiful 
in the design. The aesthetic man is pleased with it as 
with many other exquisite human contrivances ; but once 
let the heaven-touched spirit take wing, and ascend into 
the empyrean, where it ought to worship, and all this 
apparatus is cast aside like a harness that would impede 
instead of aiding. The Eomish Church wishes to destroy 
individualism, or, at least, to keep it in abeyance ; it is a 
grand Socialistic system. Christianity, on the other hand, 
begins with individuals, appeals to each apart by all that 
is most solemn, and labours to make him in earnest about 
himself. The Eomish Church says, 1 Unite yourself to 
me, and through me (and me alone) to Christ. 7 Chris- 
tianity says, 4 Unite yourself to Christ, and through Him 
(and Him alone) to one another and the Church. 1 I be- 
lieve that this transposition expresses one of the cardinal 
aberrations of Komanism, and one of the most fatal. The 
conscience once given over to the body, it is almost hope- 
less to move that slumbering contented soul, and make it 
in earnest about the way of salvation, or that change of 
heart and nature which the Bible calls the 1 new creature/ 
Oh ! the callousness — oh ! the satisfaction in belonging 
to the Church — oh ! the neglect and violation of Christian 
duties, that prevail everywhere in consequence of this 
system ! It is not exaggerated what is said about the 
Mariolatry of Italy. Except in the mass (where He is 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



321 



not), Christ is seldom brought before their eyes ; — the 
Virgin for ever ! The idea seems somewhat of this kind, 
that being a woman, and a mother, she is more accessible 
to mankind, and more open to pity than her sterner Son, 
with whom she has boundless influence. Now, this idea 
they are taught to entertain in every possible way ; and 
what can be more awful, more hideously contrary to 
Scripture ? Close to one of the principal entrances to 
Eome, is this text upon a church — { Let us therefore come 
boldly to the throne of Mary, that we may obtain mercy 
to pardon, and grace to help in time of need/ — as if it 
so ran in Scripture. Madonnas fill the churches. Is a 
miracle of conversion or healing performed ? it is by her 
instrumentality — perhaps by her statue or picture. The 
rude sailors on the coast are taught to look upon her 
as the Star of the Sea (Stella Maris), and invoke her 
always in the time of tempest ; and in the hour of death 
she is the stay. Now, this of itself precludes all further 
patience with the Church of Eome. Apart from her in- 
dulgences, her doctrine of merits, her invocation of saints, 
founded on a splendid enough theory of the unity of the 
Church militant and triumphant, and their intercourse 
through the Head — apart also from her frauds, her idle 
monks, her sacrifice of the mass, and transubstantiation, 
her presumptuous claims, her suppression of knowledge 
of the Scriptures, and generally of true spiritual life — 
oh ! it is a system of which the only thing that staggers 
me is the enormity and wide-spread delusion. I cannot 
understand such masses of excellent intelligent men often 
being ' given over to believe a lie ; ' and this marvel forces 
me again and again to ask if I understand them fully — 
if there is nothing behind, which, from my education, I 
cannot appreciate ; or if I am not mistaken in many of 

x 



322 



MEMORIALS OF 



my conceptions of them ? Yet, after all, my impression 
is that the multitude even of priests are very ignorant ; 
that long habit and indolence of mind have warped their 
religious sense ; that a few, however, but comparatively 
the few, know what they are about, and yield to system, 
the result of contrivance, and often of natural human 
aberration to ambitious purposes, not of themselves, but 
of their order ; for Socialism is the base of the Catholic 
idea. There is a deal of preaching at Eome — of a ready, 
fluent, commonplace order, which generally leaves the 
conscience and heart very much where it found them. 
How morals are to spring up without regular preaching, 
and without the written rule, would be a puzzle, were it 
not that the fruits correspond with the cultivation. The 
devotional powers are morbidly exercised, the moral lie 
waste. I have not had much intercourse with the priests ; 
but a good deal with students of different colleges, whom 
I like and regret. Poor fellows ! they are generally free 
as yet of that sinister stamp they will infallibly acquire. 
Their studies and habits of life are all consummately 
arranged for producing the desired effect. I have not 
been much impressed with the intelligence of those I have 
met with. They are always lectured to in Latin ; and 
be it in college, or be it from the pulpit, Protestantism is 
the grand bugbear before their eyes, being far more upon 
their lips than ever Popery is on ours. 

" I cannot learn that anything permanent has been 
done at Eome during the commotions. I cannot learn 
that among the clergy there is anywhere a disposition to 
Protestantism ; or among the people, more than a hatred 
of the priests, and for their sakes, of Komanism. And 
now the door is closed, that nothing short of a miracle 
could open it. Still, there is ample room for conversing 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



323 



with the people individually on religion, as well as other 
matters ; and in travelling through the country, I hope, 
by God's grace, to do so more than I have yet done : 
but when the fundamental ideas have been corrupted, it 
is like speaking to the air, which receives all you say, 
but loses it through vagueness. I have had some inter- 
esting interviews with Jews, and been made the means 
of getting their community a grant of Bibles from the 
London Society, and some temporal aid from the English 
at Borne ; for which I bless God. And here, dear Nor- 
man, my stupid yarn must end, for it is late and I am 
weary. 

u I'm off on Monday on foot to Xaples. I have made 
excursions round this of surpassing interest. I have givei- 
weeks of hard labour to the wonderful A^atican galleries, 
besides other museums, villas, churches, palaces innumer- 
able. I think my ideas of art have got a lift, and all I 
want is time to compare my own impressions with those 
of others who have studied and written on the subject. 
I have seen much, read much, and thought much : and 
now I am fagged, and not unwilling to be off, always 
expecting to take a farewell hug of Eome on my way 
back. Immortal Queen ! exalted on her own calm throne, 
let those modern fellows kick and bluster as they please. 
Ah ! think not that my thoughts are concentrated here, 
though all this time not one word of Dalkeith or home : 
but these are holy names, and embalmed where no fogs 
can ever reach them. No land like fatherland ; no asso- 
ciations equal to its. Think of you ? yes, and yearn t- 
see you, dear, dear, Xorman. How your face would pur 
to shame a swarm of those Southrons, and make my very 
heart skip ! God willing, that day is drawing near. Love 
to the Doctor, your mother, and all. Kiss for me the dust 



324 



MEMORIALS OF 



of Scotland. All news, the tiniest, will be gloriously wel- 
come. How is the parish ? How is your corporation, 
or, as my brother Sandy used to call it technically, the 
old cylinder ? So you've had Achilli among you ! I won- 
der what he really is? An American has been allowed 
to open a Presbyterian place of worship here, which is 
wonderful. He is a good man, and good preacher, and 
aims at being useful to the Italians. There are floods of 
lay Americans too, who come across with every tide, and 
see Eome in eight days, and then Naples, and then Pales- 
tine, and get back again as they came, without learning 
to speak through their nose, or to love an aristocracy. 
They are a strange race. Good-night, dear. You do 
not forget me in your prayers, and may believe in the 
attachment of your affectionate son, J. M." 

He left Eome, as he purposed, for Naples, and per- 
formed the journey on foot, accompanied by a young 
clergyman of the Church of England, the Eev. Hastings 
Gordon. They reached Naples in a week, and he says— 

" Thus has one week ended, and the prospect of repose 
is grateful. How many mercies have we experienced, 
how much happiness at the time, and in store against the 
future ! Lord, add to all the gift of grateful hearts I" 

For three weeks he made Naples his head-quarters ; 
thence making excursions, chiefly on foot, to Pompeii, 
Vesuvius, Baise, Psestum, and the other well-known 
scenes of beauty in that magnificent land. His Journal 
is full of expressions of the delight he experienced during 
these excursions. On the 1st of May, for instance, when 
at Baiae, he writes : — 

"Wednesday, May 1. — Baise bewitched me; it was 
now evening, and the mellow air, the still sea, the noble 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



325 



panorama of the Sorrento hills, with Vesuvius opposite, 
overtopping the promontory of Posilipo, and Puzzuoli in 
the foreground — all soothed, moved, and filled me with 
delight. I sat long on the terrace of the little inn, quaff- 
ing a delicious wine of Ischia, which they are pleased to 
call Falernian, and surrendering myself to the spirit of 
the place. I even made inquiries if I could spend the 
night there, although the morrow had its own work to 
look after. Finally, however, I tore myself away, having 
seen the various temples and ruins ; but not Misenum, 
nor the several objects of antiquity that lie beyond Baia?. 
Nim omnes omnia possunt At about half-past six I took 
the road for Puzzuoli, still spell-bound ; passed the Lu- 
crine lake, separated from the sea as of old by embank- 
ments, and consecrated to fish, if not to oyster-beds. Ere 
I reached Puzzuoli it was dark, and the lights that glim- 
mered on sea and coast, the peasants returning from their 
toil, the occasional peal of bells, made me little regret the 
darkness. At Puzzuoli I got a car, and while it was 
making ready, swallowed some eggs and macaroni — my 
only diet since breakfast ; then home by half-past nine 
again, traversing the tunnel, instead of the road by the 
promontory, which, had it been day-time, I should have 
done. My mistake has been in starting too late, consider- 
ing the heat of the day. I have omitted some things 
which I should have seen ; and had no time to read, on 
the spot, St. Paul's landing at Puteoli, and Virgil's pane- 
gyric on the harbour and lake, which yet were fresh in 
my memory. Nevertheless, I mark the day with a mark 
of the whitest chalk, and should I wish it, never never 
could forget its deep profound enjoyment !" 

In a small pocket memorandum-book I found written 
in pencil the following diary : — 



326 



MEMORIALS OF 



" Sorrento, Sunday, May 5. — My former memorandum- 
book, hallowed by many entries at places of note or 
beauty, from Geddes to Florence, was, alas ! stolen from 
me at Eome November last. Since then I have had no 
heart to begin another. I felt it like the loss of a child. 
Ostia, Lavinium, Ardea, Antrum, Veii, are thus names 
which shall never in after years awaken recollections 
from memoranda made on the spot, any more than the 
top of the hill of Urchany, that memorable June — Cham- 
pel, Zurich, or a hundred other holy places. 

" Sorrento awakens once more the long silent emotions 
of my heart. I yearned for a Sunday here, and have 
found it all I could desire. The sweet peace of this morn- 
ing; the melody of church bells issuing on all sides from 
the midst of orange groves ; the view opposite of Naples, 
and its Carnaldoli, Vesuvius to the right, Miseno, Baige, 
and Ischia to the left, Posilipo, and possibly Puteoli, 
where Paul landed — all these are pleasant to the eye, 
suggestive to the mind. My thoughts have realized more 
powerfully than usual past times of Eoman history ; but 
chiefly has the mellow air and the warm sunshine carried 
them back to the time of youth and childhood, awaken- 
ing within me gratitude and love, and replenishing the 
heart with those living waters, without which what is life ? 

" I write this on a terrace, on which my window opens. 
I am all alone in a very cleanly, even elegant, yet un- 
pampered hotel, where great lords and great signors do 
not appear to come ; and therefore there is moderation 
and contentment. for the certainty — I have the 
presentiment and the desire — that all I now see and do 
may conduce to my usefulness in the Lord's vineyard ! 
My Saviour ! lead me ; and whatever comes from Thy 
hand must be good." 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 327 

I 

On the lOtli of May lie left Naples, along with his 
friend Mr. Gordon, to return again on foot to Rome. 
They had both reached the Benedictine Monastery of 
Monte Casino, where they spent a quiet and happy Sab- 
bath. 

u Sunday, May VL — Sweet sleep and gracious quiet. 
Retired for short time, and at twelve were summoned to 
dinner in the common hall — a large bleak one, where the 
whole household were assembled. Padre Caravita and 
we had a separate little table. The dinner was plain but 
substantial ; the Fathers certainly a more refined and in- 
tellectual order than one generally sees. After dinner 
our padre took us to the cafe or lounge of the good monks, 
conducting to a terrace over the entrance-court, which 
they call the Paradise, from the fineness of its view west- 
ward and southward. Monte Cairo snow-clad on the 
right ; the Liris slowly winding to the south-west. After 
coffee, a walk here and conversation. Mr. Gordon and I 
then set off for a Sunday stroll. A delicious walk con- 
ducted us to what appeared to have been a smaller con- 
vent. Here, alas ! after we had read some of Keble, <vc, 
the rain came on ; and we were fain, after waiting some 
time under shelter, to make our way back to the convent. 
Vespers were by this time just concluded (half-past three , 
and our host invited us to hear one of the Fathers — a 
Spaniard — perform on the organ. His selection of airs 
was unfortunate : Norma, and two or three profane street 
tunes usually played with the accompaniment of monkeys. 

" The archives, as it were below the convent, next 
awaited us. Here we saw some very ancient MS. bulls, 
&c, and the strangers' books, in which we inscribed our 
names. A separate one is kept for distinguished visitors, 
of whom Newman was the first recorded. Accompanying 



328 



MEMORIALS OF 



the autograph he expressed his joy at having been per- 
mitted to visit Monte Casino, and entreated the prayers of 
the convent, from which England had of old drawn so 
largely, in behalf of his countrymen — jam ex hwresi 
expergiscentibus. The fine hand and beautiful latinity 
were most characteristic ; the confidence of the tone dis- 
pleased me. 

" Supper rather lighter than dinner ; finally we re- 
tired, and in our room bade farewell to our most obliging 
and courteous host, who kindly wrote his name in our 
memorandum-books, and undertook to distribute a certain 
donation we made for the poor. 

" Before our last interruption we enjoyed the evening 
service together, and now closed the day with prayer." 

It was next day, while pursuing their journey, that 
John Mackintosh received his death- wound ! 

u Monday, May 13. — Eose betimes, and as soon as we 
could get breakfast, started ; reached Ceprano road by 
romantic path — day lovely, but very warm. About six 
miles on, saw Aquino to the left. At other three, reached 
the apparently excellent inn of Amalfi, and rested ; then 
made for Arce — a distance of five miles more. Here our 
passports were vised, being the last station from Naples, 
and we reposed. 

u After a violent thunder-storm, took the road for 
Arpino, to the right. This led us up a beautiful ascent 
with charming prospects behind as well as before, many 
of which recalled home, and made me speculate with in- 
tense joy on my possibly soon meeting with my mother. 
After some five or six miles, the main road descended to- 
wards the left to Sora ; that to the right ascended to 
Arpino. At this point my strength greatly failed me, 
owing probably to the broiling of the morning which had 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



329 



excited my bile, and walking became most burdensome. 
I pushed on, however, some three miles further, my 
mouth parched with thirst, until, getting sight of Arpino 
near and vet high up, and approached by long wind- 
ings, I cried a halt. We read together Keble's Ode 
on Eomans vm., in most appropriate circumstances of 
natural beauty ; then resumed our way. The town 
seemed to possess many better-class houses, and we met 
people quite answering to this description, yet all asserted 
we should find no inn. On reaching the town I com- 
menced to spit blood — a symptom which, accompanied 
with my great weariness and debility, alarmed me not 
a little. Our inquiries for an inn were painful, and the 
result far from tempting — a dismal little room where we 
were to have a bed between us, and strangers in the 
other. All efforts to better ourselves proved vain. 
Some warm coffee, in a better-class cafe, revived me. and 
we proceeded to our dungeon. Here, however, I ex- 
perienced the rich goodness of the Lord, as I cannot but 
think. Being too weak, and not wishing dinner, I let 
Mr. Gordon, who was fresh and hearty, make all arrange- 
ments, while I lay on the top of the bed, thinking sweetly 
of God in Christ, and seeking grace to resign myself to 
His will, should He see fit to leave me an invalid ere 
having put my hand to the plough, and watched my dear 
mother to her home." 

To his own account of this disastrous day let me add 
the account kindly given by his fellow-traveller : — 

M I think I must now be writing within a week of the 
anniversary of that last day's journey together, on which 
we reached the old city of Arpino. It was a lovely 
evening, when towards the close of our long day's march, 
we sat down on the bridge at the foot of the hill, by 



330 



MEMORIALS OF 



climbing which you ascend to the ancient birthplace of 
Cicero and Marius. The scene was very charming ; and 
I well remember taking from my pocket a copy of Keble's 
Christian Year— -a volume my poor friend was greatly 
fond of, and we read as we sat there one or two of our 
favourite hymns. 

" I particularly recollect how he enjoyed that — for the 
fourth Sunday after Trinity — upon 4 The earnest expecta- 
tion of the creature waiteth for the manifestation of the 
sons of God/ &c. &c. As I think of the hymn now, it 
seems just such as his mind would have been particularly 
likely to have sympathized with, and I remember his 
saying, as we rose up to renew our walk, that he should 
never turn to it again without calling to mind the circum- 
stances under which we then had read and talked about 
it. I suppose it must only have been a few minutes after 
this, that a bad cough was succeeded by haemorrhage, 
which continued slightly through that evening, and made 
it seem unadvisable that he should prosecute any further 
the journey on foot. He was more alarmed, I think, than 
I was ; but no thought about himself altered at all that 
accustomed unselfishness which always made him aim to 
give me, who was professedly the weaker of the two, 
every advantage that could be in our lodging arrange- 
ment, &c. That night, unfortunately, was the only occa- 
sion on which these were so rude as to be really uncom- 
fortable. We had together to share the same bedroom 
with a peasant and his son, and there was little enough to 
meet the case of one who felt as he did — ill and anxious ; 
but he was just as contented and well satisfied as ever. 
We parted, to my great regret, next day ; having pro- 
cured a horse which took him at a foot's pace to the high 
road from Naples, where he joined a Diligence which 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



331 



brought him soon on to Borne, where he could at once 
have medical advice. I did not arrive there till some 
days later, travelling a less direct road on foot. My first 
care, when I reached Eome, was naturally to find out my 
friend ; and I was gratified to find him, though rather 
weak, likely to be as well as ever in a few days' time ; 
and when I finally bade him good-bye, as he started at 
the end, I think, of less than a week for the north-east 
coast of Italy, I never entertained any alarm about fur- 
ther consequences.' ' 

On his arrival at Eome he consulted a well-known 
physician, who examined him with his stethoscope, and 
pronounced "all sound,' 7 though he himself felt "the 
pain in his side and right lung unabated!" His physi- 
cian, however, permitted him to go out ; and, in a few 
days afterwards, advised him to leave Kome for Germany. 

" May 19. — Lord, I am Thine, and to Thy care I 
commit health and all my future movements, assured of 
Thy unmerited love and gentleness !" 

Having made the necessary preparations for his depar- 
ture, bidding farewell to his friends, and visiting once 
more some of his favourite haunts, on May 23d, " left 
Kome," he says, " as I entered, by the Porta del Popolo ; 
full of many thoughts — my feelings on entering — the 
interval — the future !" 

Thus leaving Kome, " with many feelings, many 
thoughts," he journeyed northward, crossing Italy to 
Loretto, and thence along the shore of the Adriatic, by 
Kimini, Kavenna, Ferrara, and Kovigo, to Venice his first 
halting-place. He travelled vetturino, and, though suffer- 
ing terribly from cough and weakness, he enjoyed the 
scenery, and visited the more remarkable sights with un- 
flagging interest, in the several towns through which he 



332 



MEMORIALS OF 



passed ; making the most of his travelling companions, 
and trying to make them happy and to do them good. 

u May 26. — On my way to Perugia I had as my com- 
panion a young priest— a most amiable and delightful fel- 
low. Some religious conversation and pleasant thought. 

u May 27. — Started at six — glorious morning, and drive 
superb. Such softness and grandeur, united with that 
exquisite boyhood of all nature ! At Tolentino had a 
long discourse with an Italian, upon how children should 
be trained to truth and piety — how happiness could never 
be enjoyed by a people without domestic virtues — how 
this social and family life was in many respects inde- 
pendent of the political condition, and dependent mainly 
on religion — the love and fear of God. in Christ. Two 
families gathered round us, and all seemed interested. 
He wished to throw the whole blame of the dispeace he 
felt, on the political state of the country and on the 
priests ; I avoided condemning either, wishing him to see 
how, as matters stood, there was a remedy ; but I tried 
to kindle in them all a thirst to possess the Word of God 
in their native tongue, to be daily a lamp to their feet and 
a light to their path ; they then left me, and I slept. 
Just before we started at three, he came back, and wrote 
out for me the life of a poet of Macerata, thanking me for 
the principles I had expounded to him. 

" Macerata by half-past six, where I caught my first 
sight of the blue Adriatic. I am struck by the supe- 
riority of the towns, and generally of the people of the 
Papal States on this side the Apennines, over those of 
the other. The towns are so clean — have such an air of 
being lately built or rebuilt — and tenanted by a large 
gentry, and even an aristocratic class of their own ; the 
manners of the people are so good, and they seem so 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



333 



industrious, and the fields are so admirably tilled. Writ- 
ing this journal, as I do, at Eavenna, I apply these remarks 
to all the succeeding route. How can the people be dis- 
contented or miserable, asks the passing traveller, when 
from eveiy inquiry which he makes about provisions, he 
finds they are amazingly abundant and cheap ? 

" May 28. — At Loretto, my cough and chest oppress- 
ing me. Saw the holy cottage, said to belong to Joseph 
and Mary, where our Lord spent His youth, and which 
has been brought here miraculously ! " 

He arrived at Venice early in June. From thence he 
wrote the following letter 

TO HIS SISTER, LADY GORDON GUMMING. 

" Venice, June 11, 1850. 
" My dearest Jenny, — I had intended writing you 
from Eome, but the Fates have ordered it should be from 
Venice — the one name, I daresay, as thrilling to you as the 
other. I always quote you as an instance of how two per- 
sons may love each other almost better than any one else 
on earth (I speak for myself at least), and yet correspond 
but rarely. There is no one with whom my past is more 
sweetly blended than with you ; and I have a presenti- 
ment that our future will not be altogether unmingled. 
that, at the present hour, I could have you as my dear 
congenial fellow-traveller ! My dear mother, whose let- 
ters are a perfect treat to me abroad, from their newsiness, 
keeps me up of course to all your doings and movements ; 
and occasionally transmits to me your love. I sometimes 
wonder at my extreme audacity, in thus kilravaging the 
world, while so many of my own age are hard at work at 
home ; but I have never the slightest misgivings that I 
am doing wisely, with the nature of the profession I look 



334 



MEMORIALS OF 



forward to, and the gravity and experience it demands. 
My stay at Geneva, I may say, was worth my four years' 
study of Divinity at home. At Borne last winter I aban- 
doned the Eoman Catholic Church, and became a Ee- 
former, as it were, on my own responsibility. I yet wish 
to complete the process, and in Germany to discern the 
excesses and perils of the Eeformation. Through God's 
blessing I may hope that this training will make me 
neither heretic nor fanatic. I cannot be too grateful for 
the opportunities I have had — not only of studying men, 
manners, languages, religions, but also of beholding 
some of the most beautiful and hallowed portions of God's 
created earth. What pen or pencil could do justice to the 
glories of Switzerland— a country fresh with youth, and 
where its Maker's fingering seems ineffaced ? Then the 
transit of the Alps, into the land of poetry and song, from 
Virgil down to your modern composers, all endowed with 
that divine spark which elevates its possessor above his 
fellows, and exalts others too, under its influence, above 
themselves. Land of glorious memories ! how my bosom 
thrilled as I strode majestically across the summit of the 
mountain, and at length was fairly descending upon its 
sunny plains ! Moment of delicious excitement ! which 
it takes a whole youth and boyhood to prepare. I 
am now about to leave Italy, and what is my verdict ? 
You used to accuse me of seeing everything couleur 
de rose; but here it shall not — cannot be so. For 
one thing, I have been direfully unfortunate in seeing 
it under what is called an exceptional phasis. The 
winter was bitterly cold j the spring wet beyond de- 
scription ; and even still, in the heart of June, a serene 
unclouded sky — such as one fancied to be the prevailing 
sky of Italy — is an uncommon rarity. Now, the sun is 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



335 



the grand magician whose wand electrifies the earth. 
Everywhere I have seen the elements of bewitching 
beauty — given only a climate ; but, as I say, this has 
generally been denied me. Some exceptions, however, 
there have been, and the memory of these I cherish to the 
exclusion of the rest, as tallying quite with that Italy of 
my imagination which all the hard realities I have wit- 
nessed, shall not obliterate. To any one who has the 
prospect of coming abroad, I would say : Don't look at 
Byron — don't look at this and that ecstatic lacly- writer ; 
but go with a plain matter-of-fact map in your pocket, 
and good knowledge of history and literature in your 
head. Then, what is beautiful or striking you discover 
for yourself, which lends it an unspeakable charm, and 
you are taken by surprise. I can safely say, that almost 
everything previously heralded and sung makes on me 
comparatively small impression ; while the beauties I had 
not known of set me wild and dangerous. The wretches 
have puffed up Florence, so that it took several days for 
the ebb to return into a gentle flow ; and now my me- 
morial of its galleries, its churches, its environs, its asso- 
ciations, are truly dulcet. Of Eome, they cannot cheat 
you ; its interest is too deep-seated, too tremendous, too 
enduring. Oh ! the solemn beauty of its ruins, where yet 
the spring lies green, and the birds are ever gay ! Oh ! 
the grandeur of its echoes, when the spirits of the past 
stalk before you, and you hesitate to say which epoch of 
the world you belong to. Pagan times, dark ages, mid- 
dle ages, renaissance — all are there epitomized and repre- 
sented ; and for years you might dwell on, finding ever 
fresh material for the thoughts, augmented by increasing 
knowledge. Naples is brilliant as the morning — Eome 
as sunset. You may weary even ( of that dazzling bay, 



336 



MEMORIALS OF 



with its islands, mountains, and promontories. Baise has 
its charms ; but they are perilous if you linger. Vesu- 
vius is a fellow that requires much getting up : I never 
saw him erupt, and when silent he is insipid. Pompeii, 
although now a railway station, is indeed marvellous ; 
Psestum — the threshold of Magna Grsecia — glorious for 
its temples ; Amalfi, Sorrento, and Castellamare — the 
very garden of the Hesperides, and spots where I should 
love to linger. The journey from Kome to Naples is ex- 
ceedingly beautiful and interesting, whether you take the 
coast road or the hills : I performed it both ways, and 
nearly all on foot. From Eome, I crossed the country by 
Narni, Terni, and Spoletto, to Loretto and Ancona. This 
was, without exception, the loveliest portion of Italy I 
have seen, and the weather charming. The poets or 
fibbers cannot humbug you out of this, any more than 
they can out of Switzerland or Eome. Greenest, richest 
vegetation ; softest, most varying outline of hills ; clear 
streams, and sleek herds roaming through surpassing val- 
leys, with that visionary light which gives everything, the 
grossest even, a dream-like ethereal character, and which 
only an Italian sun can shed. The night, too, when there is 
moonlight, yields not to the day. From Ancona, I reached 
Kavenna, for whose thrilling interest I refer you to that 
small work of Gibbon. The tomb of Dante is there, and 
others of chaps much older. Next and now, Venice — 
bride and queen of the Adriatic ! — gorgeously, sumptu- 
ously, fantastically, ridiculously beautiful — the most un- 
Presbyterian city it is possible for the mind to fancy. 
What if Calvin had got his hammer among the minarets 
and pinnacles of St. Mark's ? I am morally certain that 
cathedral must have been imported on the wings of genii 
from Bagdad or some city of the Arabian Nights ; hav- 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



337 



ing said which, I have said enough. Before it, rise three 
stupendous masts — emblems of the maritime republic ; 
then the piazza — three sides of a long rectangle — the 
facades of an architecture at once quaint and rich, with 
a long cloister (or piazza, as we should use the word) of 
brilliar t shops and cafes all round. The whole square is 
paved, and entirely shut in from sight of sea or canal. 
Here Greeks and Turks mingle with Christians ; and at 
evening, beneath the still and starry sky, an Austrian 
band, or native singers, discourse most eloquent music ; 
while all the rank and fashion of Venice and its visitors 
enjoy the cool air, feeding on ices, coffee, and harmonious 
thought. The Doge's Palace, and a thousand others, line 
the Quay and the Grand Canal, all of rich marble and 
most fantastic architecture, as if to scout the usual stiff- 
ness of Europeans. I am not sure if the Venetians say 
their prayers to the Madonna or the Prophet, but it is of 
little consequence : one and all in Italy are alike pagan. 
I have left myself no room to talk of the Italian charac- 
ters ; their abundant talent, so sadly stunted and misdi- 
rected ; their ignorance ; their grand defects of dishonesty 
and untruthfulness, increased if not originated by shame- 
ful priests, or frightfully perverted religion, and in some 
parts grievous misgovernment. These elements of cha- 
racter are universal ; but in other respects, there is much 
difference of character between different States. The 
Lombards and Eomans are grave and serious, noble-look- 
ing men, and of courteous manners. The Florentines 
and Neapolitans are of fair complexion, and giddy and 
gay in temperament ; less sincere, and greater rogues per- 
haps than the other. Except at Florence and Venice, 
the generality of the women I think hideous ; and, after 
a certain age, they become hags, too ugly to live. The 

Y 



338 



MEMORIALS OP 



men everywhere are handsome ; pity their hearts are so 
poltroon ! Especially at Kome, they have, every mother's 
son of them, a splendid voice ; but they sing little just 
now, whether from laziness or sulks. In instrumental 
music, the Germans leave them miles behind. In the 
public gardens of Kome, Florence, Naples, except when 
the French or Austrians play, you never hear the sound 
of music. In Germany, no little village could let the 
evening pass without it. I believe it is well they should 
be under foreign rule, although I felt strongly liberal 
before sojourning among them. They are arrant children 
with fierce passions, and would certainly go to wreck and 
ruin if left to themselves. The sincerity and certainty of 
the Austrians' word, their stern and impartial justice, are 
acknowledged, while they hate and fear them. Noble 
fellows those Austrians are, and dashing men their offi- 
cers ; so unlike the poor peuky-looking French, who yet 
are brave and good soldiers, and, I believe, could lick the 
others. The Madonna is the great goddess of the Italians. 
About a third of the churches and altars are dedicated to 
her— the mass of the prayers are addressed to her ; every 
year she is rising in dignity, and the redemption of the 
world is ascribed to her. A more terrific perversion of 
Satan it is impossible to conceive, and when the day- 
star is again to dawn on this benighted country, God 
only knows ; but the time must come ! 

" Instead of going to the north of Germany, as I had 
intended, I think now of taking up my residence for some 
time at the University of Tubingen, in Wiirtemberg. 
Thither, then, my pet — to the Poste Eestante — will you 
write me a return stave, and imitate my egotism ? for you 
cannot be too minute or trifling in details, in all about 
yourself and family. Notwithstanding all I see, my heart 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



339 



is still wedded to the shores of the Moray Firth, and I 
envy those whose lot it is there to live and there to die. 
My affectionate remembrances to Sir William and each of 
the bairns. Adieu ! dearest Jenny, and never doubt, as 
you cannot, in the constant love of," &c. 

Venice. — " June 13. — Eesolved to stay out the week 
in this charming place, where my cough daily diminishes ; 
and, for perhaps the first time in Italy, I experience at once 
physical and mental happiness. Evening, at seven, to 
Alison's, and walk in piazza ; lingered long after he left 
me, enjoying delicious air and all the glorious associa- 
tions ; forming also schemes of study for the future. 

u June 15. — Shakspere and Marino Faliero. Took 
gondola ; landed at Ghetto, and was conducted by Jew- 
ish gentlemen to the synagogue. Distributed tracts ; 
back to St. Mark's. Luxurious evening, as heretofore. 
Indeed, I think I should never weary of the Oriental 
Arabian-Xight-looking Cathedral ; and the noble piazza, 
with its fresh breeze and calm patch of sky. One can 
breathe here, and know, without leaving the city, what 
atmosphere prevails and fills the earth. Xone of your 
shut up rooms, narrow streets, and choking cafes." 

The following verses, written in his pocket-book when 
leaving Venice, show at least how much he was affected 
by this noble city : — 

Adieu ! fair Venice, city of the sea — 

Long had I loved the beauty of thy name ; 
But now that I've been bless'd to visit thee, 

No need of others to extol thy fame. 
Into my heart thy beauty silently 

Hath sunk ; how deeply, it perhaps were shame 
To express in accents that with truth agree ! 

Yet let it be allowed me without blame 

To say, at least, I leave thee sadder than I came. 



340 



MEMORIALS OF 



" I leave thee, Venice, but my spirit still 

Lingers amid thy calm ethereal joys — 
Thy mimic ocean, where one glides at will 

From isle to isle, nor tempest rude annoys. 
What deep tranquillity thy nights instil 

Into the soul that learns ere long to poise 
Tween earth and heaven, where holier breathings fill 

Th* enraptured breast, and earth with all its noise 

Becomes a thing of nought — a harmless, empty voice ! 

" There I have enter'd into Plato's mind, 

And felt for once with him a kindred tie ; 
Not as of old in bearing with mankind, 

The common burthen of humanity — 
But in being able in myself to find 

A shadowing forth of immortality — 
A something that informs me, that, confined 

Within this clay, there is that cannot die — 

A spark of God's own life imparted from on high, 

" Plato was one -of these that from below 

Rose to the empyrean, and attain'd 
Perhaps a greater vision than can know, 

Any by human force alone sustain'd. 
But there was One who came from heav'n to show 

How man might commune with the skies, and deign'd 
To take upon Him our vile clay — when lo ! 

God became man — and man was surely train'd 

To soar from earth to heav'n on wings divinely gain'd. 

" Daily I strive, my yearning spirit seeks 

To fix its home among those higher spheres. 
Alas ! in vain ; but now and then are streaks 

Of morning light upon my heav'n that cheers. 
Yet soon again, long night its vengeance wreaks ; 

Yet not the less, e'en then it music hears, 
Christ gave the compass that 'mid shoals and breaks 

Guides the benighted mariner without fears, 

And whispers oft and sure deliv'rance in his ears." 

Leaving Venice, he journeyed via Padua, Vicenza, 
Verona, Trent, Botzen, Innspruck, and thence by Lake of 
Constance to Stuttgart and Tubingen. From Verona, he 
wrote to his friend Mr. Burn Murdoch, then at Halle : — 



" , . . My dear mother still writes in the hope of being 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



341 



able to get abroad, in which case I should be sorry, indeed 
it would be impossible, to tabernacle at Halle and she at 
Wildbad. Accordingly, looking at the map, I perceived 
that our friend Meyer's University — no mean one either 
— stands within a few hours' drive of the baths. This 
appeared exactly to suit me ; and to Tubingen I have 
resolved to go, there to tarry out the session, with frequent 
visits to my mother, should she come, during its course, 
and joining her when it is over, in August. . . . 

" On a winter at Berlin, I have always secretly set my 
heart, and always had the presentiment we should be 
there together. If I see my mother this summer, all my 
scruples and hindrances will be removed, and my way 
made plain. ... I am sure you have studied well, and, 
above all, I hope you have inhaled a long draught of 
Scottish air and heart, to bear you through a foreign 
winter. At the same time, I believe we should find the 
native Germans more hearty and home-like than the 
native Genevese. . . . 

" I touched at Halle in 1844, walked and drank tea 
with Dr. Tholuck, whom I admired and loved. I heard 
him lecture on Eomans viii., and give a most beautiful 
cottage address, in a hall of the town, to rustics and others 
— the subject, John vi. ; and every syllable edifying and 
touching. . . . 

" What rude, raw thing in general, is student life 
among theologians ! All other professions (the students 
of) are true to their youth and bias ; but here there is an 
incongruity. The subject of their thoughts and conver- 
sation is grave, sublime, but infinitely too delicate for 
such coarse handling ; and their lives should be one thing, 
and are another ; but they are neither one nor other out 
and out. I confess I shrink from again coming into 



342 



MEMORIALS OF 



daily, hourly contact with what I deplore, but cannot 
mend. . . . 

" Of Venice, I shall not trust myself to speak. I am 
over head and ears in love with it more than any other 
city in Italy, or than all the rest put together : it has 
captivated me, heart and soul. I don't know how I got 
away from it, but I felt myself even intellectually another 
being there ; and floating on the Lagune, or pacing St. 
Mark's till nearly midnight, used to form visions of study, 
and follow out trains of meditation that made me think 
my clay had forsaken me, or become moulded into some- 
thing more ethereal. Glorious city, under whatever point 
you view it." 

He notices in his Diary that " In the travellers' book 
at Trent, one of the earliest names in the book (1824) 
was that of Sir Walter Scott, written in a female hand. 
Twice occurs that of Willie dimming ; the first time 
with Mr. Callander, the second with young Islay. Dal- 
y ell's name also in 1845, awoke many thoughts. There 

were also the two S s moving into Italy, and therefore 

breathing high contentment with everything and every- 
body ; everywhere in refreshing contrast with the com- 
plaints of those moving northwards, and telling of 
knaves, thieves, rogues, impostors, filth, uncleanliness, to 
be avoided by the forewarned ; but how, it is not added. 
I would say (but not sweepingly), only by returning to 
the latitudes from which they came. 

" Well, to-morrow I cross the Alps ; and adieu to 
Italy V 7 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



343 



CHAPTER XIV. 

TUBINGEN HIS STUDIES THEEE DIARY LETTERS TO HIS YOUNGEST 

SISTER TO REV. W. KER VISITS STUTTGART AND KORNTHAL LET- 
TERS TO HIS MOTHER, A. BURN MURDOCH, ESQ., AND REV. N. MACLEOD 

RETURNS TO TUBINGEN LETTERS TO A. HAMILTON, ESQ., TO HIS 

YOUNGEST SISTER, TO R. BALFOUR, ESQ., TO MISS HODGES, TO HIS 
MOTHER, TO A. B. MURDOCH, ESQ., AND TO HIS SISTER LADY GORDON 

CUMMING CHRISTMAS AT STUTTGART LETTERS TO MISS HODGES, TO 

HIS SISTER MRS. SMITH, TO REV. N. MACLEOD, TO A. HAMILTON, ESQ. 
—DECLINING HEALTH DIARY. 

John Mackintosh once more resumed his student-life 
in Tubingen. This is a town in Wiirtemberg of eight 
thousand inhabitants, situated about forty miles to the 
south of Stuttgart, and in one of the most picturesque 
and fertile districts of Suabia. It is built upon a low 
undulating ridge of vineyard-clad slopes, rising abruptly 
above the Neckar, which, here a small arrowy stream, 
sweeps their base. The narrow streets of the greater por- 
tion of the town wind their way up the hill, with old 
houses, whose high-peaked gables approach each other in 
the strip of blue sky over head ; while here and there are 
open spaces for a market-place, a church, or some vener- 
able school of learning. The ridge is crowned by an old 
schloss, once belonging to the Pfalzgraves of Tubingen — 
a race extinct two centuries ago. The castle itself is yet 
in good repair, and turned to account by the University, 
to which it now belongs. From its battlements there is 



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MEMORIALS OF 



a beautiful view to the eastward, of which the Suabian 
" Alp " forms the most striking feature. Beyond the 
schloss, the path winds through the vineyards. In a 
summer-house, on the Osterberg, Wieland composed his 
Oheron ; and amidst the same scenes of rural beauty, 
Uhland still chants his exquisite lyrics. 

The University of Tubingen is one of the oldest and 
most illustrious in Germany. Eeuchlin and Melancthon 
once taught in it. It possesses an ancient Protestant 
Theological, and also a Eoman Catholic Seminary. 

Mackintosh took up his residence in the inn. " You 
know," he says in writing to a friend, "my weakness for 
inns, and would choose one to die in." 

On the first day of his arrival (July 1), he records his 
feelings thus in his Diary : — " I know not how it is, but 
the moment I halt at a place with the design of resting 
there permanently some months, my spirits sink, and all 
seems dark and dreary. At Geneva and Eome it was 
not so ; but I remember the same thing at Heidelberg 
and Bonn, and now here. I seem to have reached the 
back of the world, and have all the sensations of night- 
mare and suffocation. This may pass, and, at all events, 
God grant that I may here make diligent progress in all 
my studies !" 

This sadness passed away, when he once more entered 
upon his studies. These were as earnest as ever. Every 
hour was occupied. In one of his letters, he says : — 
" Among many lectures that attracted me, I have limited 
myself to (beginning with the lowest) Vischer, at six p.m., 
on German Literature ; Hefele (Eoman Catholic Seminary) 
on Church History, at ten ; and the Fathers at four ; 
Beck, on Christian Ethics, three days a week ; Schweg- 
3er, on Plato, at two; and, twice a week, 'Ephorus' 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



345 



Hoffman, of the Theological Stift, on Old Testament 
Theology, at two. I attend also, as often as possible, the 
excellent Dr. Schmidt, and his colleague, the famous 
Kationalist, Bauer, who lectures on the History of Dog- 
mas, his forte, and on New Testament Theology. I am 
anxious to hear him, as he represents the newest and most 
learned school of the Hegelian or Strauss philosophy.' ' 

Considering that this was only a portion of the work 
which filled up the twenty-four hours, he might well say, 
in writing to a friend, that he " worked the clock out of 
countenance," and in his Journal (August 6) : — " I am 
moving in full sail, every inch of canvas spread, although 
my craft be small : not two minutes of the day but I 
work and turn to account. my Lord, may I add that 
it is all for Thee V 1 

He remained in Tubingen without a break, for more 
than two months. 

" July 8. — Got a letter from my mother, which allayed 
my fears of their coming abroad to Wildbad as they in- 
tended ; and the "Wildbad road is for me henceforth 
gloomy, leading to gloom, and utterly unwalkable, especi- 
ally at evening ! My judgment rejoices, my heart mourns, 

u Had a long walk with Professor Michaelis. In the 
evening, the reading-room. Eead the news of Sir Eobert 
Peel's death, which made my heart beat, and my eyes 
swim. What ! in the prime of life, and the only compe- 
tent prime minister at present for England ! Some day, 
I suppose, Gladstone will be prime minister, and then, 
however England may be managed externally, she will 
be thrown into internal Church broils, for which she is 
already ripe ; and some agencies which are at present in 
the background, will once more play an influential part 
in the history of Europe. Eussia and England are pre- 



346 



MEMORIALS OF 



paring the ground for a tussle. The former has religious 
objects in view as well as political. God grant that, if she 
endeavour to supplant the Church of Kome, England enter 

not into the quarrel, as giving her power to ! I feel a 

gloom over my mind and spirit in consequence of this news. 

" July 27. — My life is here tranquil and happy. A 
week, a month ended, during which much cause of thank- 
fulness to God. May the next in all respects witness 
better things, through Thy blessing, my God!" 

TO HIS YOUNGEST SISTER. 

" Tubingen, July 30. 
" ... It is perfectly absurd to imagine that any part of 
the Continent can for a moment vie with the thousand 
and one spots of our own dear land. Chris' accounts of 
Clifton and Malvern sent my thoughts a-spinning, and, 
shall I say it, created a certain Heimweh ; but this I must 
keep down for some time yet. I received her dear letter 
this afternoon — blessings on her for it ! it did me more 
good than ten physicians ; how marvellous her recovery, 
how rich the goodness of Gocl ! I do not wish to miss 
the lesson you must all have had during the process of 
the fever, but try to realize it all, and feel as you do. 
I wish, since you will a-jaunting, you could for a week 
change places with me, brat ; not but that I am most 
happy here, and making some progress in that dictionary- 
needing tongue ; but you know the keen relish I had for 
Temple Sowerby, and its picture of domestic and village 
life — the sweet associations I have with it, and now I 
shall never more behold it under the same dynasty. It 
is like the curiosity I have to see Constantinople tenanted 
by the Turks ; and the presentiment I have that, ere I 
visit it in my grand tour of the world, the Eussians and 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



347 



not the proper, romantic, orthodox Mahometans will be 
there. Well, alas ! I could weep for it — for oh ! those 
days of Gresford, Wrexham, of Appleby and Ullswater- 
izing ! but hush ! down ! not a word more. I have no 
doubt destiny will conduct them to some other sweet spot 
in south-west England ; and there too one's heart may 
nestle. How look the rocks by Eden now ? how grow 
the cowslips in the intervening park ? Is Eggspoon still 
the hero of the village ? unci so waiter. You will admire 
the lyrical character of this effusion, but it matters not. 
I have written my travels to so many r in shreds and 
patches, distributed over Europe, that the subject palls 
me. I expect this time to make distinguished progress in 
German. Are you doing anything in that way ? There 
is a Professor here who lectures twice a week upon Faust ; 
and even without his aid I have discovered it to be not 
quite such nonsense (!) as we once imagined ; but you 
must understand the allusions, and for that we were not 
then competent. Some day [tHat is never) I may lecture 
to you on it. I sometimes think. fc Where am I ? what 
brought me here ? what am I doing here ? where is 
everybody else? when shall I rejoin them?'* Well, the 
only conclusion is, that our life is a strange mystery, and 
understood not even by ourselves. We don't know the 
consequence of our acts, or whither we are tending ; but 
One above does, and it becomes us in faith, and yet with 
trembling, to wait upon Him, and as much as possible con- 
fine our attention to the limits of the present, and make the 
most of it." 

TO THE EEV. WM. KEE. 

" Tubingen, August 26, 1850. 

" I feel satisfied there is very much to be learned 

in this heretical land, and only mourn that so few of my 



348 



MEMORIALS OF 



right tuchtig friends are here to reap the benefits whicn 
I see may be acquired, would fain acquire, but am strait- 
ened from acquiring and importing, through poverty of 
intellect. I am persuaded we seldom rightly sound and 
probe the truth till we are urged to it by error. The 
more the soul travails in those high regions, the more will 
it bring forth, albeit it be to the eye and in form just 
what it had before, and that without much effort. They 
tell me here God is diffused through time and space, 
without any distinct individuality or personality. I try 
this upon my spirit, and it rebounds from such a doctrine, 
to cling — with what fondness, with what earnestness, with 
what deep-felt gratitude ! — to all that Scripture reveals 
of the high and holy, as well as infinitely gracious and 
condescending One ; and so on through all the attacks 
I have yet encountered. I must say I feel a world of 
information — I might say, of light breaking in upon me 
from all sides. I feel that I am being educated — that each 
day adds something to its predecessor, and only regret 
(though perhaps the regret is vain) that so late in life I 
have entered on so wholesome and invigorating a mental 
discipline. Could we but transplant the good to Scotland, 
the spirit of inquiry — profound, enlightened, patient; and 
reject the evil accompaniments — I fear in some measure 
with sinful man, consequences — it would be an achieve- 
ment worthy of the thanks of all posterity. But a truce to 
such remarks. We are at least happier with the practical 
side of things developed among us — the humble, believing, 
loving, but withal perhaps unin quiring Christianity." 

The month of September was spent at Stuttgart. He 
says in his Diary, August 19 : — " I begin to welcome the 
thought of a move — for I have here, through God's good- 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



349 



ness, studied well, and need relaxation. " His few weeks 
were busily occupied in constant attendance at the meet- 
ings of the Kirchentag, and more especially in examining, 
with great minuteness and patience, the various schools 
in the city, so as to master the German system of educa- 
tion, to which so much attention has so deservedly been 
directed in this country. 

While in Stuttgart, he enjoyed the society of Professor 
Mentzell, the well-known author of Lectures on German 
Literature. 

" Sept. 6. — Had a walk in the park gardens with Pro- 
fessor Alentzell. as far as Hoffer's Castor and Pollux. He 
criticized the sculptures. Spoke also with much despair 
of the condition of Germany, as regards unity and liberty. 
The petty sovereigns, in spite of the wishes of their people, 
must just revert to the old system, and be, if possible, 
more arbitrary and despotic. The Chambers are a mere 
shadow. He spoke of historians ; the Germans amass 
materials, but are too long : the French fail in solid 
materials — this is true of Fleury. Align et, and Guizot. 
Mignet's style he greatly admires. The English historians 
he likes : Gibbon, however, defective in his notice of the 
migration of the people after the fall of the Eoman 
Empire, too much in the style of the old Eoman his- 
torians. Hume good for his time. He spoke of some old 
historians (as Moore) who had pleased him much ; and also 
of Sir Thomas Browne's (son's?) Travels in Germany." 

TO HIS MOTHER. 

u Stuttg-akt, Sept. 8. 
" Ere I finally decide for next winter, I look up to 
Him whom I desire to serve ; and, were it not that my 
decision will be already made when you receive this. 



350 



MEMORIALS OF 



would ask you to intercede for Hie, I do not think 
that I am following the devices of my own heart, in 
thus lingering abroad, and wishing to pass a winter 
in Germany ; because I can foresee, almost with gloom, 
many things from which the flesh naturally shrinks, 
and which I might avoid by returning at once to a dear 
home, to loving friends, and to active work, for which 
my soul yearns. No, my sojourn abroad, from the first 
moment down to the present, has been no pastime. The 
very scantiness of the means on which I have managed 
so much travelling and residence in expensive places, 
betokens that I am not given to outward self-indulgence ; 
and these two years are sufficient to have convinced me, 
that there is no happiness on earth at all equal to that 
to be enjoyed at home, and among friends, in a sphere too 
where language is no bar to proclaiming, and so serving, 
Christ. But I feel impelled to complete what I have 
begun — so strongly, that were I to act otherwise, I should 
be doing violence to all those indications which I must 
regard as the leadings of God's providence. What He 
designs for me and with me, I do not know ; but I can 
see my present duty in no other way. I know, dearest 
mother, that this defence, so to speak, is quite unnecessary 
for you — for you, who gave me birth, have always in- 
stinctively had confidence in my motives ; but I write it 
because, in my present perplexity, I have been led more 
closely to examine my heart, and to search after the 
Lord's will ; and the verdict I have given to myself, I 
communicate to you." 

In the beginning of the following letter to Mr. Burn 
Murdoch, he refers to a severe illness from which his 
friend was slowly recovering : — 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



351 



" Stuttgart, Sept. 14, 1850. 
" It would be impossible for me to tell yon, in a letter, 
bow mucb yonrs, from Geneva, moved and distressed me 
— tbe nature of your trial is so painful and severe ; 
but even for sucb a case tbe Lord is all-sufficient, and, 
I trust, and indeed bave tbe conviction, tbat His strength 
has been made perfect in your weakness ; tbat tbe Lord 
has given you such a sweet resignation to His sovereign 
and all- wise will ; that the suffering has been turned into 
a blessing for you ; tbat your faith in Him has been made 
strong, so that you discern love in the affliction ; and 
that His grace within you has enabled you to say, 4 Lord, 
I am not my own, but Thine ; bought with Thy blood, 
and dedicated to Thy service ; do with Thy servant as 
Thou seest good and best/ I feel anxious about you, and 
therefore hope you will not keep me long in suspense, but 
write me soon how you now are, and whether you can 
say an amendment is visible. 1 The Lord grant it ! ' has 
been my very frequent prayer. Of course had I been at 
Geneva, I would have joined with William in urging 
your return ; and as you have done but what was right, 
I need not be silent on my personal disappointment, which 
is but the expression of my love to you. Yes, I had been 
looking forward, I may say buoyed up by the prospect of 
our meeting, and felt my heart sink when my hope was 
blighted ; but to God's will I must also bow, and believe 
(though I cannot yet feel) that here, too, all is for the 
best. I felt, and still feel, like a ship in a troubled and 
dreary sea, wanting half its hands. I have not been so 
desolate in spirit since the day after you left me at 
Lausanne — perplexed and weighed down; but without 
moon, stars, or inward light, • I hope on — the morning 
must come — its first dawn will be when you write me 



352 



MEMORIALS OF 



cheerily (but faithfully) of yourself. I expected to have 
been comforted in seeing dear Meyer at Tubingen, as he 
wrote me from Lyons, and thus hearing from him of you, 
as well as solacing myself in his friendship and advice. 
I waited there a week for him beyond my time ; but he 
neither came nor wrote, so that I began to fear he also 
was unwell. At last I moved to Stuttgart on the 2d of 
September, quite undecided what to do. The Kirch entag, 
or Assembly of German divines, as you probably know, 
was to take place here on the 10th ; and I used this as 
an excuse for delay in deciding my plans, remaining for 
it, and seeking God's direction. The intervening week 
I spent profitably, at least, in inspecting very thoroughly 
the gymnasium in all its classes, for which I had per- 
mission, and comparing it with our own system. At last 
came the Kirchentag, which has occupied this entire week 
from Tuesday. I have attended indefatigably all its 
meetings ; and by going early, generally secured a good 
place for hearing and understanding. A few words upon 
it may interest you. First, it was numerously attended. 
Some hundreds of pastors and others, from all parts of 
Germany to the most remote. I saw there your friends 
Tholuck and Julius Miiller ; Sack and Dorner from Bonn ; 
the two Krummachers ; Stahl, and some lay noblemen 
from Prussia and Berlin ; representatives from Hamburg, 
Bremen, Schleswig-Hol stein, the frontiers of Holland, 
Frankfort, Hesse, Saxony, Hungary, Bavaria — and, in 
short, every hole and corner of broad Germany. Nitzsch 
was prevented from coming, but Ullmann and other dis- 
tinguished men were also there. The hospitality of Stutt- 
gart was truly Scottish. Every stranger, on presenting 
himself, was presented with a card of admission to the 
meetings, Oratorios, and leading sights of the city, with 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



353 



a full description of the latter, and with the offer of quar- 
ters in a family if he wished. Business began each clay 
at eight or nine, and lasted till three ; then a table-d'hole 
in three different locales; at five, friendly intercourse 
in the Museum or its beautiful garden ; in the evening, 
Oratorios (very splendid) ; or meetings of committees to 
arrange business, also open to the public. The greatest 
unanimity has prevailed in the discussions ; and these have 
embraced almost every conceivable means of furthering 
the kingdom of Christ among the German people, from 
the sanctification of the Sunday (with which their dis- 
cussions opened) to Bible and tract circulation, itinerant 
preaching, prison visiting, school evangelization, family 
worship, and many other important, and even minute, 
questions. In one word, the object of their meeting, be- 
sides the indirect one of promoting unity of spirit and 
love among the churches and brethren, is statedly the 
Home Mission. There is no doubt that the idea of such 
an annual assembly arose out of the Ee volution of 1848, 
this being now their third meeting since that year (the 
first two were at Wittemberg) ; and that on this account 
they are favourably regarded, and even encouraged, by 
the still despotic governments ; but how fair a child, and 
how rich in fruit is this, through God's blessing, likely to 
become for Germany, and through it for all lands ! I de- 
sire nothing further to confirm me in the faith that the 
Ee volution has been overruled by God, for the further- 
ance of His kingdom. No one present could fail to be 
convinced, that in it was the germ of a second Eeforma- 
tion for Germany, more profound in experience, and more 
lasting than the first ; and under this inspiration many 
who have lived through the troublous times, which con- 
duced to the Eevolution, could not forbear from weeping 

z 



MEMORIALS OF 



at tlie vision of the rebuilding of their Zion, which they 
had never expected in their days to witness. Earnest, 
earnest were the prayers, and sensible the presence of the 
Spirit of God among them ; and an on-looker, whose 
heart was with them, could not fail to be deeply moved, 
to share in the benediction, and to desire even to join in 
bearing stones for the work. And there were some Eng- 
lish missionaries there not inactive ; and England and 
Scotland were often quoted in the speeches, though the 
prevailing tone was strictly national and original, and 
could not, and ought not to have been otherwise." 

While at Stuttgart, he had the happiness of making 
the acquaintance of the poet Dr. Knapp, whose beautiful 
hymns are familiar to the German Church. 

" Sept. 26. — At eight to Dr. Knapp ; very kind recep- 
tion. Spoke partly in English and partly in German. 
He is an intense admirer of Shakspere : thinks him far 
greater than Homer, Dante, or Goethe. Macbeth mar- 
vellous ! Act ii. scene 2, unsurpassable ! He made me 
read it. Spoke of Goethe, Byron, Shelley, Cowper — all in 
language highly poetical and full of just remarks. He is 
going to Berlin, and offered to take me with him. Eieger 
came in and concluded our interview, which lasted an 
hour, by playing me some airs from Beethoven." 

Mackintosh spent the first two weeks in October at 
Kornthal, a village — described in the next letter — near 
Stuttgart. From thence he wrote me some account of 
the state of theological education and religion in Wiir- 
temberg. 

TO THE REV. N. MACLEOD. 

" Kornthal, Oct. 5. 
"... As to Italy, its very names have power to sweep 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



355 



the soul in all its harmonies, and I believe and trust that 
the vibration with me, will cease only with life. It is 
now a sweet dream — a gorgeous vision ; the curtain of 
the past has for a short season been raised before my 
eyes : it has fallen again, but the unutterable things I 
have beheld are mine for ever ! I might have told you 
my emotions on seeing Dr. and Mrs. Black at Naples ; 
how my heart went out to them for auld lang syne, and 
for the circumstances that brought them there ; how we 
spoke of home, of you, and the Doctor, and made Naples 
for the time Scotland ; and yet Scotland, and Dr. Black, 
and I, and all of us, were subjected to the magic of a 
Naples sun, and sky, and bay, and mountains. Since 
then I have heard of them no more, but my thoughts 
have followed them. . . . The transit of the Alps is to 
no man an ordinary moment, and I know not whether 
I felt bigger, when descending from the Spliigen to 
Chiavenna, with the whole jar of youthful association 
ready to be discharged, or in descending upon Innsprtick, 
the jar refilled with what must serve for manhood and 
old age. . . . And now Germany, the vanquisher of old 
Eome, that first shook the gates of new, and may yet one 
day, by God's grace, overthrow them — a noble land, never 
perhaps more rich in promise than at the present moment. 
Two months of summer, as you know, I spent at Tubin- 
gen. It has a Eoman Catholic and Protestant Theo- 
logical Seminary, both well supplied. Unlike the usual 
practice in Germany, the students in either live within 
the walls, and are thus subjected to a thorough training 
and surveillance. Indeed, in all its departments, the little 
kingdom of Wiirtemberg is, one may say, admirably 
ordered, and always aiming at something higher, and still 
more efficient. The preparation of her pastors is but one 



356 



MEMORIALS OF 



instance of this. Those of her youth who have already, 
at an early period, determined on being ministers, may go 
to one of four preparatory gymnasia, where they remain 
from the age of fourteen to eighteen, live within the 
walls, have their expenses in a great measure paid, are 
instructed in a most thorough manner in Latin, Greek, 
Hebrew, their own tongue, and another modern lan- 
guage ; in History also, Logic, Ethics, Mathematics, 
Natural Philosophy, Church History, and religious know- 
ledge, besides Music and other lighter accomplishments. 
After this, upon passing an adequate examination, they 
are admitted into the Theological School at Tubingen, 
where, during the first year and a half, they attend chiefly 
lectures on Psychology, Metaphysics, and Ethics, in the 
University ; making these subjects their principal study, 
along with perhaps one course in the Theological depart- 
ment each half year. The remaining two years and a 
half are devoted exclusively to Theology. The Eoman 
Catholic students have two preparatory gymnasia, and 
follow, I believe, the same rules. If a student have 
studied at another gymnasium (the education is generally 
admirable in Wiirtemberg), and be able to pass the pre- 
liminary examination, he can still enter the Theological 
Seminary. Of the four Professors in the Protestant 
School, three are men not only evangelical, but eminently 
pious. These are Drs. Schmid, Beck, and Landerer ; the 
fourth, however, is a kind of giant in his way, being the 
famous Eationalist, Dr. Bauer. I am afraid his intellectual 
influence carries nearly two-thirds of some one hundred 
and sixty students with him ; the rest are otherwise 
minded. There exists genuine piety among the students ; 
indeed the Suabian character, so full of sentiment and 
yearning after the unseen, presents a favourable field for 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



357 



its development ; but this very element has also led them 
away after the visions of a Schelling or a Hegel, while 
the reaction from it has perhaps produced a Strauss. These 
three men, by the way, were all at one time students in 
the Theological Seminary of Tubingen ! On leaving the 
seminary they may proceed as vicars to some clergyman, 
in which post they remain often many years. Some 
twenty of the most talented, who have passed the most 
distinguished examiDation, are recalled after a few years 
of such experience, to resume their studies in the Uni- 
versity ; and, as sort of Fellows, direct the studies of 
the younger students both there and in the gymnasia, 
and take a general superintendence of a certain num- 
ber, living in an adjoining room, and coming con- 
stantly in contact with them. They try their hand, 
too, occasionally in lecturing, and may one clay become 
professors. 

" . . . In the Church of Wiirtemberg there are very 
nearly a thousand employed pastors ; they have three 
gradations of rank ; and the Church, in its symbols and 
constitution, is strictly Lutheran. Of these one thousand, 
perhaps two hundred are Pietists — a name here synony- 
mous with Methodists, or those who are earnest in their 
religion. Unlike Methodists, however, they are within 
the Church, and date throughout all Germany, as far back 
as the time of Spener, in the seventeenth century. Chiefly 
through their endeavours, the spark of true religion has 
never been extinguished. A large number of the Lord's 
bidden ones have always underlain the more noisy infidels 
and rationalists, whose sound alone has come to us ; and 
this is attested by the unexampled mass of Christian 
hymns in which the German language is so rich, and 
Christian household books, composed and written through- 



358 



MEMORIALS OF 



out the whole course of years since the Reformation. The 
Pietists have frequently changed their ground according 
to the necessity of the times — I mean in theological and 
ecclesiastical matters. Their main object has been to 
preserve life, and from this they have never swerved ; but 
in the time of Spener, it was to be clone by opposing a dry 
adherence to confessions and dogmas, and adhering more 
closely to the Bible, the living Word. In more modern 
times, they are often the vindicators of confessions, since 
men have so far swerved from all positive belief. The 
shades, however, that prevail among even the orthodox, 
are here so numerous, that I have not yet been able to 
master them. Many of the Pietists, while evangelical in 
the main, entertain opinions on many points which we 
would condemn ; and, indeed, I should say generally, 
that Germany must still, for many years, present the 
appearance of a country from which the floods are abat- 
ing, and where dry land and water are not yet distinct. 
That the floods are abating, is an undoubted and glorious 
fact. . . . 

" But I must now be done. Behold me in Kornthal, 
an interesting little colony of Christians, as you know, in 
the neighbourhood of Stuttgart, founded under Hoffman, 
somewhere about the year 1818, by some pious families, 
who, displeased with some Rationalist changes introduced 
into the National Church, were preparing for conscience 7 
sake to quit their country, when the king granted them 
this valley, divided into little properties, where they have 
liberty to choose their own pastor and schoolmaster, to 
use their own hymn-book, and to introduce such other 
practices as they think good. They are quite independent 
of the Consistory, but generally choose their pastor out of 
the National Church. They also elect their own mayor 



J OHN MACKINTOSH. 



359 



or provost. In most matters, they strictly resemble the 
Lutheran and National Church. They have, however, 
evening worship in the church, frequent meetings for 
brotherly edification, and altogether appear to realize a 
very delightful religious life. An establishment for young 
men and young ladies, from all parts (some from Eng- 
land), has been also founded here. . . . 

" how my heart yearns for home ; but I dare not 
think of it. Depend upon it. I lead no luxurious life 
abroad — Xewman himself not more ascetic ; but I think 
I am deriving profit here, and. if I live, may have time 
yet to work. Were I to consult ease and pleasure. I should 
come home ; were I to consult happiness. I should seek a 
parish or a flock : but as yet it may not be. Now, dear 
Xorman, may God bless you. and bless your work, and 
lead and discipline you from day to day. as He does 
every one who is indeed His child. — So prays. I may 
say daily/' &c. 

He suffered much bodily pain while in Kornthal, though 
not an expression mdicative of such suffering, now or at 
any time, ever appears in any letter. But in his Diary, 
he says : — 

"Sunday, Oct. 6. — ^Kornthal.) Have to-day fasted — 
sendee again at seven. Outwardly I am very wretched 
here ; but it makes me cry loudly to God. seek my com- 
fort in Him, recognise it as His orders, and seek thus a 
childlike spirit of submission and tractableness. Heavenly 
Father ! bless it to these ends. Wean me wholly from 
the world ; engage my whole heart in living for Thee and 
my neighbour. Overcome the selfishness and love of ease 
so inherent in me, and fulfil towards me Thy purposes of 
love in Christ Jesus ! 



360 



MEMORIALS OF 



" Of course with all this roughing, my cough and chest 
pains increased ; but I commit all to Him whose I am, 
and whom I desire to serve. 

" Monday, Oct. 14. — (Kornthal.) Here, too, the Lord 
has had me in His school, and seen fit to discipline me 
chiefly through bodily hardship and suffering, the neces- 
sity of which I recognise. Though the fruits are not 
what I could wish, and He may see meet yet further to 
visit me ; yet I trust I have not yet wholly lost the 
blessing of a more chastised and docile heart ,* an aroused 
desire to live not to myself, but to Him ; to have my trea- 
sure in heaven, and live a stranger on the earth, in 
greater love also, and childlike waiting on His leading. 
Blessed Lord ! who seest what I write, and knowest the 
condition of my heart, and what is good for me better 
than I, only leave me not. Give me from day to day 
tokens of Thy nearness and communion with Thyself. 
Give me a devoted, loving heart — a broken and contrite 
spirit. Give me to serve Thee, and I am ready to receive 
what else cometh from Thy hands. I pray for holiness 
more than happiness. Amen." 

While in Stuttgart, he examined, as I have already 
noticed, with great attention each day for two weeks, the 
system of education pursued in its schools. The results 
of his observations are communicated in a letter to his 
friend, Mr. Balfour, written at a later date, and which 
I cannot refrain from publishing in the Appendix, as the 
information which it conveys may prove interesting, for 
its own sake, to many readers. 

Mackintosh returned to Tubingen at the end of Octo- 
ber, and resumed his routine of study. His friend, Mr. 
Hamilton, had been in Denmark, and was in Berlin 
when the following letter was written to him : — 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



361 



; ' Tubingen, Oct. 23. 1850. 

"... Both your letters have affected me ; in the first. 
I sorrowed in your sorrow, and the second gives hints of 
more disasters, I trust not so intimate and near. Tour 
wanderings have interested me too, though in your last 
you are more laconic. I should greatly like to have not 
one but many talks, to cream you of your experiences, 
and make the thread of your recent life more apparent to 
me. How very different must have been your earth and 
heavens in the north, and mine at Koine ! In all that re- 
gards not the sure and certain anchorage of the soul, I feel 
how much we are moulded by our circumstances. My ex- 
perience since I last wrote you has been very manifold. I 
would not willingly part with it, nor with the belief that 
the Lord has led me through it, like a shepherd, for my 
own good, if not also for that of others. Amid the many 
temptations to iorgetlulness of Him, which these last 
years have presented. I have ever felt His hand about 
me, whether with the rod to chasten and correct, or with 
gentleness to attract and bind more closely. It is this 
experience that makes me think I am following His will 
in thus lingering in other lands, instead of at once en- 
tering on His more immediate service. We are not our 
own, but bought with a price, and dare not lightly follow 
our own ways. I trust that your experience has been of 
a kindred nature, although no two are disciplined alike, 
and that in the retrospect of an equal term of expatriation 
you can look back upon more solid profit, and more direct 
leading of the Lord than I. 

u I still revert in thought to the glories of the past 
winter, often thinking it must be a waking dream ; but 
that the impressions, forms, sentiments then amassed, are as 
real and vivid, if not more so. than any other of my mental 



362 



MEMORIALS OF 



being. I lost for a time the Italy oi my youthful fancy, 
to be replaced by one no less beautiful and more instruc- 
tive ; and now, to my delight, I find that I can again 
possess both, and live at will in the ideal or real. It is 
never without regret that we part with what has long 
been familiar to us : this feeling I naturally experienced 
at first in Italy ; so what was my joy on discovering the 
other day on looking at some Italian scenes, that I could 
regard them as of yore or as of yesterday !" . . . 

TO HIS YOUNGEST SISTER. 

" Tubingen, Nov. 2. 
"... I am just finishing the Wallenstein, which I never 
before read in the original. It is buff to Faust ; and 
even the poetry does not impress me so much as when I 
read it in translation in more blossom-loving days. I 
think Schiller is but a lady-poetess compared to the man- 
hood of Goethe. Yet I like the man of course far better. 
Still, even on his own ground, of the tender, the en- 
thusiastic, and the beautiful, the cold old heathen by his 
art can surpass. I compare Coleridge's translation with 
it. He has taken strange liberties often with the text, 
overhauled the whole structure of the play, left out large 
bits, and now and then expanded little ones, perhaps on 
the whole judiciously ; but I have caught the knave in 
some actual blunders, which leads me now and then to 
suspect that he has skipped passages, because he found 
their construction hard ; nevertheless both are glorious. 
Tell me what you are yourself doing or contemplate 
doing. May God be with you, darling love, this winter, 
and lead you in His own blessed ways. Be instant in 
prayer. Study the Gospels much. Try and make out a 
picture of the life of Christ, by taking Matthew as your 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



363 



text — comparing him with the other two, and then end- 
ing with St. John. We cannot love Him whom we have 
not seen, nnless through faith His matchless form be 
revealed to us, and this can only be in the description of 
His life and character. I am sure you would find such a 
study, meditatively pursued, most interesting and profit- 
able. It is my comfort to commit you into His hands. 
I am lonely enough here — so write me now and then ; 
not but that I have friends, and good friends, but no 
countryman. . . . 

"It is very true that human hearts and sympathies 
link us to places more strongly, and dwell more sweetly 
in the memory than any other kind of association. It is 
for this reason I should like to have some congenial 
spirit with me in my wanderings, be they vagabondish, 
or like those of the wise men of yore who traversed the 
earth in search of wisdom ; or like those of my namesake, 
who abode in Padan-aram to be out of harm's way at home, 
and got himself married. But this is not my intention." 

TO R. BALFOUR, ESQ. 

" Tubingen, Nov. 11 , 1850. 
"My very dear Balfour, — I received your truly 
welcome letter at Naples. Since then I seem to have 
lived through several summers and winters, and marvel 
constantly that the date must still be 1850. When I tell 
you that, towards the end of February last, I was bath- 
ing in the Mediterranean, and that since then I have 
witnessed periods of snow and sunshine, you will under- 
stand how even physically I may use this language ; how 
much more when memory goes back over the nations, 
customs, and costumes through which I have wandered ! 
I do not know that in the view of a life of labour in His 



364 



MEMORIALS OF 



direct service, should my Lord and Saviour call me to it, 
I would willingly give up one week of all this experience ; 
and what is more, I have endeavoured, so far as in me lay, 
to follow and not to go before the inclinations of His lead- 
ing hand. If I have been mistaken in this, I have been 
mistaken in all my calculations for the inscrutable future. 
I have a rich feast, too, in the recollection of the past ; 
but at the time, He who knows when to lay on chastise- 
ment and when to remove it, did not suffer me to forget 
Himself amid the glories of that nature, whose associa- 
tions are so much linked with various forms of heathenism. 
I left Italy, I trust, in many ways a wiser man ; and now 
in Germany I am seeking to follow the same pillar of cloud 
by day and fire by night, as even figuratively I may appro- 
priate it, and finding, I may add, the same indications of 
His love and care as my conscience and past experience 
tell me I most need. They are alluded to in Heb. xii * 

" I could say much to you of religious matters in 
Wiirtemberg, in Germany, also of Tubingen, but space 
forbids. God willing, I am here for the winter ; but in 
the loss of B. M., I feel myself bereaved, as you may 
suppose. Pray write me here, and soon. Give him my 
fervent love : I shall answer his dear letter soon. Re- 
member me, too, again to Mrs. Balfour, to your brothers ; 
to Cleghorn, Boyle, and all friends, to whom I am as 
Lazarus in more respects than one. — Accept again my 
congratulations and fervent well-wishes, and believe me, 
my dear Eobert, ever your affectionate friend, 

" John Mackintosh. 

" P.S. — How dark the horizon of the Continent — of the 
world ! The thunders about to break out are controlled 
by no human hand !" 

* The rest of this letter will be found in the Appendix. 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



365 



There was one Christian friend then near Mackintosh, 
and who still resides in Stuttgart, to whom he alludes in 
several of his letters, and whose motherly love to him, 
when he stood most in need of it, will be ever green in 
the memory of his family ; and to her he thus wrote : — 

TO MISS HODGES. 

" Tubingen, Nov. 14. 

" I have received several kind messages from you and 
the others, and so shall no longer deny myself the plea- 
sure of writing you a few lines. You have had sorrow 
among you, for which I feel ; but I trust that the Lord 
Himself has bound up the broken heart. What chiefly 
grieves me, is the tidings communicated to me to-day of 
Madame Serre being so poorly. I trust this is due to 
transient causes ; but it is well to be prepared, and to 
accept of every monitor. Whatever brings our naturally 
callous souls into closer contact with God and the unseen 
world, must be good. Well for those who have been 
taught to live dependent every day for life, and breath, 
and all things, on the great source, when that source is 
our Father and our Lord. But God's dealings are so 
merciful with us, that as we approach eternity He usually 
gives us that which through life we have alternately 
possessed and lost through the infirmity of our natures. 
May such be the blessed experience of Madame Serre ! 
May the Saviour reveal Himself to her through the Spirit, 
in all His attractiveness and mediatorial sufficiency, as 
the bearer of her sins and sanctifier of her soul, as He 
who is God and man, and whose presence makes heaven. 

" I have little personally to tell you ; my heart homes 
itself among you at Stuttgart ; and the thought of seeing 
you all again, makes the time fly quickly, and affords a 



366 



MEMORIALS OF 



delicious break in the winter prospect. My friends here 
are very kind, and become dearer and dearer." . . . 

TO THE SAME. 

" Nov. 23. 

" Your little packet was duly put into my hands on 
Thursday morning. I am not worthy of your regard or 
solicitude, but receive it as from the Lord. Thanks, 
thanks for your very great kindness. . . . 

" How happy I am to hear of Madame Serre being 
again raised up ! If it please God, I trust we shall have 
a rejoicing house at the season of sober joy and Christian 
mirth. I trust, too, that Miss B. will have received com- 
forting news of her sister's health, so that no brow may 
be clouded. For my own health, it is much as it was. 
I am next to certain that, with God's blessing, my native 
air or any cold climate would quite restore me ; but I 
always think (23d November) winter must come, and that 
is my native air wherever I find it; and then the ad- 
vantages which I see from continuing my studies yet a 
little while abroad, while, once home, it would be almost 
impossible to come away again. I endeavour to know 
the Lord's will, and think that I am ready to do whatever 
He plainly indicates to me. In spite of cough and weak- 
ness, my head is clear for study ; and this makes some 
little progress, so that here is the temptation. But enough 
of a mauvais sujet. 

" Last Sunday I thought I descried, in church, a sten- 
torian head and throat that might serve for ten men, 
which could only belong to one individual in those parts 
— I mean Dr. Knapp. The mystery was soon explained 
to me by Carl Eieger, who had met him with his bride. 
The latter appears to have captivated him much, and 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



367 



I wish them much happiness. How nice that German 
practice of feting everything with flowers, and green 
leaves, and boughs of trees, so that external nature is 
always made to minister to joy. I doubt not it was so 
in Eden, and will be so again universally." 

TO HIS MOTHEE. 

" Tubingen, Nov. 28. 
" My darling Mother, — I received your second most 
dear letter a few days ago. It is a luxury to write to you ; 
but you fully see now there must be intervals, as I have 
not only Scotland, but the different halts I have made in 
my travels to correspond with. Would I could take a 
run to you at coming Christmas ! but I must content 
myself with thinking of a short visit to Stuttgart (only 
four hours' drive from here), where I shall probably go, 
not for its own attractions, but to enjoy the sight and in- 
tercourse of a happy family — part French, part English, 
part German — whom I came to know while there in Sep- 
tember. The centre of this group is a French pastor's 
widow, Madame de Coutouly ; very Christian and very 
engaging. She has a quantity of little French boys and 
French girls, who frequent school, and so speak German 
too. Her mother, an elderly Genevese lady, lives with 
her among the grandchildren ; but the chief attraction is 
an English lady, Miss Hodges, such a refined, kind, 
motherly character, as could only be produced across the 
channel. . . . 

u Nowhere do I picture you so well, or speak to you 
in spirit so freely, as at Laurel Bank, where it seems to 
me you enjoy and are sensible of many blessings. once 
more to share them with you ! and this I look forward to 
in the Lord's goodness. I never felt you unequal in 



368 



MEMORIALS OF 



spiritual things to my experience, but the reverse, as I 
think I have expressly told you ; but I am naturally 
somewhat silent, and often felt my joy to be complete to 
be with you in the same house, in the same room, though 
we should not directly speak except at intervals. On the 
whole, however, I think we had many sweet hours and 
walks together, and the Lord grant they be only inter- 
rupted for a season ! What I thirst to read is Chalmers's 
Life; one of the few men whom I love and reverence 
almost to idolatry. Ever since I came here, I have been 
possessed with an enormous zeal for study. 4 Nothing new/ 
you will say ; but it seems new, while the fields opened 
up to me are so new ; and at home I often forced myself 
to read from duty — the will taking more the lead than 
the actual appetite. Church History, or better, the His- 
tory of Christ's kingdom, in its first founding by Himself 
and His immediate followers, as well as down the stream 
of the intervening centuries — this is perhaps under vari- 
ous points of view my chief present study. There is a very 
distinguished Koman Catholic Professor of Church History 
here — for Tubingen has a seminary for Koman Catholic 
as well as for Protestant students of Theology; and 
as at Kome, the lectures were discontinued, until shortly 
before I left, owing to the state of the city. I take the 
opportunity here of hearing what he has to say for him- 
self and for his Church. Through his lectures I have 
been led to read some of the writings of the earliest Chris- 
tians which still remain, and to remark in them, on the 
one hand, the great disparity between their letters and 
those of a Paul or a John ; but, on the other hand, the 
beauty, simplicity, and freshness of much which they 
contain, as well as the testimony they bear to the gospel 
narrative. All this is good and valuable, for we are too 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



369 



apt, in Scotland, to feel at least as if Christianity appeared 
and ended in the period comprised within the Xew Testa- 
ment ; and then reappeared first again in Scotland at the 
Reformation. We know Letter indeed : but it is well to 
feel it by making acquaintance with the Christians them- 
selves. But the fields of study are endless, and all I can 
hope to do is to pave the way for traversing them after- 
wards one by one. should the Lord permit, and as He 
leads me. The knowledge of German is for this indis- 
pensable,' as they alone have gone profoundly into the 
past, and brought to light a mass of knowledge, that 
throws light on Scripture, and every department of 
study/' 

TO A. BURN MURDOCH, ESQ. 

" Tubiugen, Dec. 7. 
"I do not doubt that the Lord has yet work for you 
in store, for which He is disciplining you. as the old 
monk said to Luther. There is a discipline of the spirit, 
through which we learn far more than can be taught by 
books, or than mere book-learning can give. This will 
throw more light upon the Word of God than ail other 
studies, and yet this should be their chief end ; and it 
can prepare better for winning souls and feeding those 
won, than all other preparation — which is yet ostensibly 
the object of students of Theology. This you well know* 
and, I doubt not, have found your consolation in it. albeit 
for the present the trial is grievous. Even in an intel- 
lectual point of view, periods of, so to speak, involuntary 
repose are highly useful. Our faculties will not bear 
constant straining, and if not suddenly cut off, I believe 
that every man can only accomplish a certain amount in 
life, be it all at once, or be it by fits and starts, or be it 
gradually. Scherer is only another instance of this. He 

*2 A 



370 



MEMORIALS OF 



worked with all his might for some ten years ; and then 
the capacity gave way, and he must lie nearly fallow for 
the next two. In my own humble sphere, I find that after 
a time of compelled idleness, I can make more out of a 
hook in a day, than just at present, for instance, I can in 
two ; but all this prosing is just to remind you of a fact, 
which may assure you that your time is not at present 
lost. When God restores you, you will take your revenge 
on future hours. . . . Soon after the Kirchentag, and a 
long inspection of the Stuttgart gymnasia, schools, &c, 
I made a short excursion to Kornthal, of which you may 
remember to have read in Scherer's Reformation. It is a 
small village, situated in a commonplace sort of valley, 
some miles to the north of Stuttgart, and was founded in 
1818, with royal permission, by a number of families 
who were displeased with Eationalist changes then intro- 
duced into the church worship, specially its psalmody 
and liturgy, and so thought of leaving the country. A 
shrewd and pious burgomaster, named Hoffmann (father 
of the StifVs Ephorus here, and late of Basel), managed 
the whole affair. The colonists are chiefly of the working 
classes, but some of higher rank have since joined the 
community, which, somewhat like the Herrnhuters, is 
distinguished from others by a daily church service, fre- 
quent brotherly conferences — or Erbauungs-stunden, as 
they are called, and a very strict and peaceful outward life. 
I was very much pleased with the various arrangements 
and individuals of the community. The pastor is a very 
dear man. He also presides over a very excellent and 
economical establishment for young ladies. The vorste- 
her or provost, the schoolmaster, the hausvater of a Poor 
Children's Institution, the masters of a Boys' Boarding- 
house— the patriarchs of the village, besides others having 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



371 



no official position — all had their individuality as Chris- 
tians and men, which came out in the various Christian 
conferences and in private intercourse ; and yet all had 
a oneness of love and aim, that made the private and 
social exhibition of the life of God a very real and a very 
beautiful thing. I stayed a fortnight there, and then left 
it with regret, back to a more solitary working out of the 
Christian idea, which should yet also, when possible, be a 
social one. The old men, in particular, reminded me 
much of some Scottish worthies whom I know, and who 
are also not rare with us ; but I must remark of them, as 
of my Christian friends generally in Wiirtemberg, that 
their piety strikes me as more biblical and less doctrinal 
or confessional than ours. Christ is always the beginning, 
end, and centre of their love and confidence. I enjoyed 
in Stuttgart another opportunity of witnessing an as- 
sembly of pastors — a voluntary meeting of the evangeli- 
cally disposed in "Wiirtemberg, which takes place twice a 
year for mutual edification, chiefly as it has no church 
authority ; but also for the discussion of public matters 
which they can further indirectly. There were some 
seventy or eighty present, and the meeting was de- 
lightful. 

M The theological subject to which I have chiefly buckled ' 
myself, is what is here called Einleitung, and this for the 
New Testament. It relates to the history, authorship, 
canonicity, and text of the various books — a very im- 
portant subject at present, as you know, and standing at 
the threshold. I am reading Hug ; but gather views 
and information wherever I can. There are some very 
good exegetical lectures in both seminaries which I should 
like to attend, and by and bye perhaps may, to learn at 
least their method, since I cannot now hope to have so 



372 



MEMORIALS OF 



gone through with a Professor, many of the books ere 
entering on their practical exposition. Dogmatik and 
Symbolik, I must also at present defer ; but oh ! I blush 
on all these heads, when I see the superior acquaintance 
of the German students : not, however, that they are on 
that account, somehow or other, better qualified than ours 
for pastoral work. The Lutheran Church, in its doctrine 
and workings, is for me an interesting phenomenon ; but 
at present I am becoming acquainted with it chiefly 
through observation and conversation. I see more and 
more how much might be learned advantageously with 
my opportunities, but sigh daily that there are not some 
with me who, through superior capacity (though not will !) 
could make a tenfold better use of them than I can do; yet 
I trust they will not altogether be thrown away. The Pro- 
fessors whom I know are very kind. My friends among 
the Kepetents (I think I have explained to you who they 
are), are likewise so, and give me books and all I can de- 
sire. I have formed, too, some nice acquaintances among 
the students ; and enjoy particularly a prayer-meeting 
some of them have twice a week, in one of their rooms, 
on Sundays and Thursdays, on the latter of which, a 
pious Eepetent presides with very great benefit to its edi- 
fication. Finally, I live for work, and find the days fly ; 
but after all, the result is small. I have omitted to men- 
tion to you that with Hefele, I am reading through the 
Patres Apostolici, and find them very interesting/ ' 

TO MISS HODGES. 

" December 13. 

u My dear Miss Hodges, — I have waited a few days 
before acknowledging your last 4 rebuke/ that I might be 
able to say something about it. I say rebuke, for I feel 



J HN M ACKINT 5 E . 



myself unworthy of your concern, being a very sorry 
fellow at best, and your kindness smites me as something 
I don't deserve. Nevertheless, I will not deny there is 
something very, very grateful to the spirit in it, when 
one is far from home ; and I shall therefore only thank 
you anew, and take the liberty of feeling a good deal 
more than I express. This glorious bracing frost has 
sent health and energy through all my veins, which I 
trust will last, and for which I thank God. 

" I cannot, therefore, say how far the remedy is due to 
-the new breakfast diet ; but this I will say, that it is 
most capital stuff ; and I want my friend Carl Kieger, 
whom the name Racabout tickled very much, to come 
soon, and know it by experience. Again, then, many 
thanks ; — and to talk of sending more ! . . . 

M I have a strange feeling as if I were going home 
at Christmas, but it is only to Stuttgart ; and yet the 
knowledge of you, and your dear family circle there, has 
something in it very homish. I trust the Lord will give 
me as much happiness as I anticipate, for through Him 
all blessings flow. It is a time of joy, but must begin to 
be pervaded with what is heavenly.' 7 

TO HIS SISTER, LADY GORDON CUMMIN G. 

" TuBixGEy, Dec. 21. 
" My darling Jenny, . . . Let me wish you joy, and 
congratulate you on the birth of a son. May the time 
come, when I shall see them all three under the shadow 
of their mother ! To be sure, I admire human beings 
more than anything else upon earth, and would now 
sooner undertake a journey to see your little ones than 
to see Kome ; and you may take me at my word. In 
truth, I yearn to see you again, and the old woman who 



374 



MEMORIALS OF 



is perhaps still with you, and the native land; and God 
bring it about in His own good time ! 

" My life, since I cast root here, has been so entirely 
devoid of outward incident, that I fear it would little 
interest you. I find very inviting fields of study opened 
up on all sides, through the key of knowing German, and 
the incitement of lectures and learned society. Whether 
I shall bear much harvest away with me, my feebleness 
of body and mind makes me sometimes doubtful. The 
studies, however, once begun, can be carried on through 
life, if that be granted. I have the old struggle with 
existence, for which I am not unthankful, as it reminds 
me there is a world to come, and that we are but pilgrims 
and wayfarers here, and so my story ends. 

" The natives of Wiirtemberg think it the most lovely 
country in the world. With an eye pampered as mine 
has been, I can see little distinguished beauty in any 
part I have yet visited ; but I have not yet seen the 
Black Forest — and that is its crown. Give me but a 
blink of the Moray Firth, as you have it from Price's 
or the Lethen hill — the old cry of 1 Let's push on the 
ponies, or we'll be dead late ! '—six o'clock on a glorious 
August evening, just descending on Barclay's church — 
with the Koss and Cromarty hills, and the bay, and the 
Strathglass hills sawing the western horizon, and the 
Nairn spire in the foreground ! — give me but a blink of 
this, I say, once more, and I know not but I will let you 
wipe the purple Apennines and the Mediterranean, and old 
Rome itself, completely out of my remembrance. Nay, 
my heart turns sick at the bare thought ; and if a sound 
sleep does not sober my spirit, must take out my place by 
to-morrow's Eilwagen, to see once more a paradise that 
needs no restoring. Forgive this sally, but, citizen of 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



375 



the world, I am offspring of old Scotland, dust of her 
dust, and Jenny's doating, doating brother ! I am going 
to Stuttgart for a few days at Christmas, to pick up a 
little English in a family I know there. All happiness 
and every blessing be with you ! Greet Sir William and 
all your bairns from me ; and the old lady also, should 
she still be with you, and whose birthday I shall not fail 
to remember. Think sometimes on your superannuated 
brother, and send him a stave if you have leisure, pen, 
and paper, permitting and believing him to be in ex- 
tens o. 7 1 

Mackintosh spent the Christmas holidays, and entered 
upon 1851, with his friends Madame de Coutouly and 
Miss Hodges, at Stuttgart. He returned immediately 
afterwards to Tubingen. 

TO MISS HODGES. 

" Tubingen, Jan. 4. 
" My veey dear Miss Hodges, — In spirit I am with 
you still at Stuttgart, and it seems even strange to write 
to you instead of speaking. How sweetly those days 
flew by — all too fast ! but I feel that for me they have 
not been unprofitable — their effect I still feel, and hope 
long to feel with still deeper impression. I mean, that 
not to speak of the merely natural joy arising out of the 
sight of a happy united Christian family, in all stages of 
the progress of life, as well as of spiritual development, 
I derived from the example of Madame de Coutouly and 
others, and from my intercourse with you, I trust a fresh 
impulse to make the Lord my friend and example, and 
to live in humble, admiring, self-forgetting fellowship 
with Him. You have known, I have no doubt, what it 



376 



MEMORIALS OF 



is to have the spirit sometimes barren ; so that that 
Book which was formerly better than thousands of gold 
and silver ; and that Name, which to them that know it 
is as ointment poured forth, and that communion which 
makes earth a heaven is no longer what it was? The 
Christian, after some experience, knows that this state, 
though mournful and burdensome, does not argue so 
much as it at first sight seems to do. How precious, 
however, when the dew once more descends from heaven 
upon his soul, and he is melted under the renewed pledge 
of his Father's love, and can only sit at the feet of Jesus 
to admire and praise — anew make himself over to Him, 
who loved him in his state of sin and death, as He now 
loves him amid relapses, ingratitude, and unprofitableness. 
Well, those two contrasted states have lately in some re- 
spects been mine, and I bless God that in this case the 
second succeeds the first. For this, then, let me thank 
Madame de Ooutouly and you ; although I do not wish 
you to express it to her. You may, however, say how 
grateful I am for all her most undeserved kindness and 
forbearance — a gratitude which, like most of my country- 
men, I have almost a pride in feeling deeply, and express- 
ing feebly. May the blessing of the Great Father rest 
on all your dear family ! I send love to each, and who- 
ever seems to prize it most may receive a double share. 
The journey from Stuttgart was very different from that 
to it ; and the night- travellers seem to have felt the same. 
A thick fog accompanied and received me. ... I am so 
glad I know your little room, and the history of its por- 
trait gallery. May the Lord reward you for all your 
kindness, and if I be a disciple, He no doubt will ! — So 
prays daily your very attached friend, 

John Mackintosh/' 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



377 



TO HIS SISTER, MRS. SMITH. 

" Tubingen, Jan. 10. 

" I was truly delighted to receive your letter, so kindly 
thought of at this season ; and, to show my gratitude, 
lose no time in answering it. I do indeed give thanks 
to God with you for His wonderful goodness in restoring 
you so thoroughly, and I humbly pray and trust that the 
tender heart, the obedient will, the childlike confidence in 
Him, which the Spirit of God begets in us, when we are 
first brought out of sore trial, may, by your diligence and 
constant dependence on His grace, be perpetuated and 
kept alive in you. There is no life so blessed, as every 
Christian knows, as that of a daily communion with our 
Father in Christ. None, alas I so prone insensibly to 
degenerate into form and routine, when the real effluence 
of heaven is no more. . . . 

" I should greatly enjoy to have been with you, in 
Dorsetshire, to see the old English Christmas customs, 
where they are perhaps best preserved. How foolishly do 
people write of other countries spoiling us for our own ! 
I cry and moan daily for the inferiority of everything here 
(and elsewhere, w T here I have been at this and other sea- 
sons), to what my memory retains of the clear old land ; 
not but that the practice of the Christ Tree (which I am 
told is also to be found in some parts of England), is very 
pretty, and pleased me much. At the house in Stutt- 
gart where I was then a guest, a very splendid one was 
set up. It is generally a young and verdant fir newly 
taken, up. The branches are glorified with myriads of 
little tapers, dazzling gold and silver bells, and presents 
of all kinds to be afterwards distributed. The joy and 
wonder of the children on being first admitted is inde- 
scribable ; and what particularly pleased me, old and 



378 



MEMORIALS OF 



young are once more placed upon a level, and receive and 
enjoy their little pose of presents about equally. The 
belief is, that there is a mysterious connexion between 
the Christ Child, and all the good things and happiness 
then enjoyed. The Church here is Lutheran, and re- 
sembles very much, in all its rites, the Church of Eng- 
land ; so that there was no lack of holy reminiscence 
furnished by church services, fetes, &c. . . . 

u The inexhaustible Christian worth of Miss Hodges 
captivated me, and did me more good spiritually than 
perhaps all else. I am now once more at Tubingen — in 
all outward respects a highly zmenjoyable place. I 
often think how little one person is qualified to judge 
of another's condition or of another's duty. If you 
knew, dearest, how your sharp but not lasting suffering 
does not perhaps come up to mine — spread over my life 
through a body not acutely ill — but seldom well, and 
often weighing down mind and soul ; you would not 
fancy that my life was all enjoyment, either here or in 
Italy, or except at favoured intervals. I have a high 
object in staying abroad, which, so far as I am not de- 
ceived, has God's approval ; because it has His service 
alone in view, but nothing else would induce me to 
rough it as I do." 

TO THE REV. N. MACLEOD. 

* Tubingen, Jan. 23, 1851. 
" . . . I have never known, nor expect to know, a finer 
developed people than the Christians of Wiirtemberg. 
They have the advantage of learning their Christianity 
rather from the Bible than Confessions, and so it takes 
a healthy, simple, un doubting form, which with us too 
often, by gentle and simple, is wanting. Not that our 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



379 



folk study the Confession for themselves — no, they read 
their Bibles, but it is the teaching of the school and of 
the pulpit, so unceasing, that colours all their views ; and 
so, in general, reduces the matter to one dead level, where 
it would be hard to say, if asked, which is the cardinal 
doctrine of Christianity. The Bible, if read in its own 
light, leaves one in no doubt about it. It is Jesus Christ 
manifest in the flesh, suffering on the cross, received up 
into glory ; and, for the sinner, all others should have 
weight, as they have more or less nearly to do with this. 
Our system, however, begins with the eternal decree, and 
leads us on to final judgment ; so that, in fact — I have 
experienced it — the awakened sinner does not know at first 
whither to turn— to election, or to what ; and perhaps only 
after long searching, is Christ Himself, he knows not how, 
presented to his eyes, exhumed as it were from this long 
and artfully-linked catena ; but I have mixed my meta- 
phor, and must for 1 exhumed' write 4 disengaged.' How 
beautiful the confidence of the Christian's approach to 
God here — Lieber Vater ! he cannot doubt, for His love 
sent Jesus — Du treuer Heiland! We have still very 
Jewish, distant, and awful thoughts of God. We see 
Him not enough in the Son, and very few and imperfect 
thoughts of the Son, who yet must be our life. The 
other 4 doctrines,' as we call them, if they do not shut Him 
out, seem to throw Him into the background, as effectually 
as do the 4 saints ' of the Eoman Catholic Church. When 
will it be otherwise ; and our religion become a more 
simple and a more loving one ! This will only be when we 
adhere to the Bible, as our text-book, more closely in school 
and pulpit, and learn our Christianity and Theology there, 
where everything has its due prominence. I recognise 
this as the grand result of German experience ; and yet 



380 



MEMORIALS OF 



it is but a return to the principle of the Eeformation — -too 
soon, however, abandoned. Now as then, and ever, the 
Bible must be mighty to the pulling down of strongholds 
(be they what they may), and the building up of a sound 
and living piety. There was long, and still is, a tendency 
favoured by Schleiermacher and even the Moravians, to 
detach Christ from the Bible ; but the evil consequences 
of this are seen, — and now a Bible, that is, a Christian 
Theology, is the cry. Forgive this long dissertation, dear 
Norman, but it has been involuntary. For the * thousand 
little unremembered acts of love and charity/ this people is 
to be loved. I need not specify, though my heart would." 



The time was now, alas ! rapidly approaching, when those 
letters which for years had been welcomed by his friends, 
could be written by John Mackintosh no more ; when 
those delightful studies, in which from his youth he had 
engaged with so much ardour, could be pursued no more 
— no more at least here in this earthly school ; and when 
those delightful labours which he daily longed, as a mini- 
ster of Christ's Church, to share with his brethren at 
home, and for which he had prepared himself with such 
untiring earnestness, were to be resigned — though doubt- 
less only for others higher and nobler elsewhere, in the 
great and wide kingdom of His loving Lord. 

The wound received on that fatal day in spring, while 
ascending to Arpino, had ever since been doing its work 
of destruction, with no little pain and weariness to the 
patient sufferer. Only in his Diary, written for himself 
alone, is there any direct evidence of such sufferings ; 
for while sensitively shrinking from making himself at 
any time the topic of conversation, he had always a pe- 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



381 



culiar repugnance to allude to his bodily ailments ; and 
even now, when these had, for the first time in his life, 
assumed a character which greatly alarmed his friends 
abroad, yet, from ignorance of his imminent danger, and 
an unwillingness prematurely to alarm his family, and 
thus probably induce some of them to undertake a journey 
in the midst of winter, in order to afford that assistance 
which, in his opinion, was not then required — he avoided 
mentioning the feeble state of his health in any of his 
letters, except to two of his correspondents, on whom he 
enjoined the strictest secrecy. 

He thus wrote, for instance, to Mr. Hamilton, who was 
still residing in Berlin : — 

" Tubingen, Feb. 5, 1851. 
" You are a man, and I may therefore trust, you with a 
secret — if you betray me, I have done with you ! Well 
then, in ill-fated Italy, — certainly, in part, through my own 
folly in walking from Eome to Naples (over enchanted 
ground), with a heavy knapsack on my back, amid the 
rains of spring, — I contracted a bad cough. The summer 
months here greatly restored me ; but the fatal weather 
we have had since October — constant rains and fogs, and 
damp sunshine — have renewed it with such virulence, 
that my strength is wellnigh quite gone, and I am full of 
pains. I have not thought it advisable to tell any of my 
friends of it, as the Lord may yet bring me through ; and 
at this season of the year, they could only be anxious, and 
do nothing. Therefore you are on your parole, as you 
value my friendship. For this weakness' sake, you will 
forgive a shortish letter. My friends here, especially 
among the Eepetents or Theological Fellows, are unceasing 
in their kindness ; and indeed, if I recover, I shall be 
glad from all sides to have learned the deep heart of the 



382 



MEMORIALS OF 



Christians of this little country — for my sphere of acquaint- 
ance is pretty wide. My studies are, of course, sadly in- 
terrupted ; but my zeal burns like a red-hot coal, and I 
have learned, and am yet learning, things in my sore 
suffering, which affliction only can teach, or, I might say, 
the Spirit of God only through affliction. I desire your 
prayers." 

But having thus written of himself, he resumes, in 
the same letter, the old favourite theme of study, as if 
many years, instead of only a few weeks of life, were yet 
in store for him ! — 

" For many years I have had perhaps, alas ! the same 
centrifugal tendency as yourself, that is, I studied my 
Bible and cultivated my heart; but took more readily to 
any other study than Theology, partly feeling that other 
studies were the outworks, and had an indirect bearing 
on it, so naturally I began at the bottom with those 
first : and partly that Theology must be the study of my 
after-life, and they could probably find no place there. 
Here, however, I was weaning myself from this influence, 
or at least keeping it in the background ; and under 
the stimulus of good lectures, which are better here than 
with you, fairly buckling myself to the subject. The ex- 
cessive ferment of opinion, too, where there are, as here, 
Boman Catholics, Protestants, Christians, Hegelians, and 
all shades of thinking, have set me keen on edge, and 
many a book, which, when I was in the Hall, scarcely 
awoke a feeling in my mind, I should now devour. In 
fact, I am enamoured now of Theological study, in all its 
branches ; ' yet not the less cease I to wander where the 
Muses haunt' — poetry, literature, philosophy, have also 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



383 



their undying charms, and I should like to have the 
strength of ten men to study them as I could wish : — but 
who is writing ? at present the hundredth part of a man, 
and one who even at best is weak, except in will. Now 
I must stop, and trust, should God bring us together, to 
tell you of the Theologians here/' &c. 

Various entries in his Diary, during the period of his 
sojourn in Wiirtemberg, disclose the state of his health. 
He says, as far back as 

" Sunday, June 30. — (Stuttgart.) Walk and medita- 
tion in gardens at six in the evening. Eeturned about 
eight. During this walk I reviewed the past, with much 
self-recrimination for these latter months ; when, however, 
illness, weakness, travelling, and many other causes, have 
combined to throw me back in spirit. Lord, have mercy 
upon me ; anew I endeavour to make myself over to 
Him, to renounce self, and to consult entirely His will ! 
Graciously bring those desires and resolutions to perfec- 
tion, Heavenly Father, for Jesus Christ's sake ! " 

Subsequent entries tell of increasing illness of body, 
and increasing confidence in God. 

"Saturday, July 13. — I think I am substantially 
better, though still very delicate, and requiring the 
utmost care and attention. A slight exertion is enough 
to tell me that both my lungs are more or less affected. 
God grant this entirely pass away, if such be His will ! 
My soul has not been so lively as it was last week ; but 
yet I feel drawn towards Him, and the thought of to- 
morrow is sweet. Lord, make it really so ! 

" Sept 18. — My health low, and rather joyless ; but I 
bless God, and desire in Him to take courage, and to cast 
all my care upon Him. 



384 



MEMORIALS OF 



" Sept 19. — Both lungs are now very painful, and 
through ill health my days, in the main, dreary. Lord, 
I cling to Thee ! Thou wilt not leave me ! Sanctify my 
suffering to the bruising of my soul — which, alas ! is 
under all unsoftened — and to the increase of my union 
with Thee. Above all, take me out of self, and fill me 
with love and zeal for Thee and my neighbour. My 
hardest burden of all is an unloving heart. 

" Stuttgart, Sept 29. — To-morrow I leave my present 
lodgings, where I cannot study, from ill health, and cold ; 
yet I doubt not the Lord sent me hither ; and now again, 
as a child, I desire to be led by the hand. Forsake me not, 
God and Father of my Lord Jesus Christ ! Bless this 
dear family in each member, that has shown me so much 
kindness, and bless my several other benefactors. Amen. 

u Tubingen, Oct. 27. — I have not yet got into working 
trim. In the mornings I am stupid, and cannot study. 
Then at ten, when getting better, have to go out. In the 
evening, I read well ; but it never sticks to me like morn- 
ing work. Sad indigestion and cough ; yet the desire of 
my soul is after God — childlike submission and obedience 
— looking up at every step for the Master's guidance and 
help. This morning spoke to Henry, the boy who attends 
me, on Bible-reading and the one thing needful. I am 
eager also to find out some direct employment for the 
Lord, and wait in prayer. My God, I will through Thy 
grace put my trust in Thee, amid all darkness and dis- 
couragement ! 

u Nov. 1. — At two, heard Hoffmann; and then sat a 
little with Auberlen. Cough very bad, and on leaving 
the Stift, spat some blood. Called on to get sanc- 
tion for attending communion. 

u Nov. 8. — I am sore hadden doon by this cough, and 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



385 



know not how far it is dangerous. Lord, I am Thine ; 
care for me ! 

"Sunday, Nov. 9. — How veiy uncertain I am of my 
future ! Wellington could not have longed for Blucher 
as I do for winter, for I see no other help from this tear- 
ing and wearing cough. But Thou knowest my way ; give 
me a lowly, loving heart, and obedient, following spirit. 

" Nov. 10. — My cough no better ; and the phlegm I 
expectorated seems to come from an inexhaustible foun- 
tain. Auberlen — kind fellow ! — counselled me to consult 
Dr. B., which perhaps I shall do. The pain is not great. 
Lord, lead me as a shepherd ! 

" Nov. 12. — Attacked Bauer's rationalistic book, but 
felt stupid — so gave it up ; and, after a cup of coffee, 
wrote Balfour a long letter on German schools. My 
own future dark as that of Germany. 

u Nov. 14. — Day cold ; so cough much better. On the 
whole, quite a respite, for which I desire to bless God. 
Last night, as I rolled and tossed in much pain, my 
thoughts of remaining here were very dark, and where to 
go, query? 

u Nov. 15. — Sad night of coughing; but I am begin- 
ning to think lightly of it. 

" Nov. 29. — Cough very outrageous, and great pain in 
both lungs. 

u Sunday, Dec. 1. — At eleven, to church ; partook of 
the sacrament. Cough and weakness increased." 

It is sad to record such days of suffering. But it 
is pleasing to know that the sufferer was among Chris- 
tian friends who sympathized deeply with him, and 
whose fears were greater than his own. Among those, I 
may mention Dr. Hoffmann — long known from his con- 
nexion with the Missionary Institute at Basel, then head 

2 B 



386 



MEMORIALS OF 



of the Theological Seminary of Tubingen, and now chap- 
lain to the King of Prussia — as one who was the much 
valued friend of Mackintosh, as he is and has been of 
very many : Kostlin, Eieger, Auberlen, with others of the 
Repetents (or Fellows), loved him as a brother, and were 
his daily visitors. But Miss Hodges felt as if, in a mother's 
absence, he was her peculiar care. She had long implored 
him to consult a physician ; and before parting from him 
at Christmas made him promise to clo so. Accordingly, 
early in January, he consulted Dr. E. of Tubingen, and 
thus wrote to Miss Hodges : — - 

" Mindful of my promise to my dear friend, who takes 
more interest in my health than it merits, I saw within 
two hours the long- adjourned Dr. E. I told him how 
my cough and I had been companions — none of the most 
amiable — for nine months, and spread no gloss over the 
case ; on the contrary, rather darkened it. He recom- 
mended me a little Tisan tea, and the drinking of Nie- 
dererau wasser. Lectures he allows, as the rooms are well 
warmed (all too well), and said it was only a too long 
neglected catarrh. All this was highly satisfactory ; but, 
as you see, will never mend the matter, nor indeed can 
any physician by his recipes — but only the Great Physi- 
cian, who orders the seasons, and directs our steps favour- 
ably in other minor matters. I do not think myself that 
it is more than a rod temporarily sent, and whose blessing 
I must more and more seek to discover. I also changed 
my abode the day of my arrival, and have come into a 
room with the usual disproportionate amount of windows 
and doors, which makes one think with gratitude of the 
window- tax in England. This / know, that a well- 
sheltered room, with even ordinary weather, would soon 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



387 



cure me ; but it is not to be had. The family, however, 
(Wildermuth), with whom I now live, I enjoy very much ; 
and Mrs. W. is as anxious to make me well, as could be 
my mother or — you. There are children and a grand- 
mother, and both, you know, please me. Forgive my 
writing so much about myself ; but you have yourself led 
me on to so bad a habit at Stuttgart, which I must en- 
deavour to overcome." 

He again writes to her : — 

" January 21. 

" My very dear Miss Hodges, — I have received your 
two very affectionate notes, and would have written sooner, 
had it not been for weakness. I shall forbear to thank 
you for your interest, taking it now almost as that of a 
very near relative. ... I am aware now that my illness 
has taken quite a new turn since I saw you ; that, in 
short, the right lung is affected as it was not before, My 
strength, too, entirely left me, and my sleep ; but both 
are gradually, I think, coming back, and while (without, 
however, such heavenly feelings as you describe) I feel 
resigned to the will of my Father and Lord, and know it 
must be best, I have yet times when that verse comes 
unsought into my mind : 1 1 shall not die, but live, and 
declare the work of the Lord.' I solicit your prayers, 
that I may receive a meet and becoming spirit for my 
situation. 

" All doctors recommend me to remain here at this 
unfavourable season for travelling ; and they do not seem 
to anticipate anything very rapid in my decline, so that 
I have deemed it wisest, from my intimate knowledge of 
my mother's character and how it would affect her, to 
say nothing yet about it to her. I have told her, indeed, 



388 



MEMORIALS OF 



that I am poorly, and scolded her, as only a son can, for a 
very long delay in writing me ; but this, you see, is not at 
all in the vein you desire. I shall say no more at pre- 
sent, not being strong. . . . 

44 No thing can exceed the kindness of my friends here, 
and I am only ashamed to excite so much interest and 
sympathy. The Lord reward you for all your goodness 
out of His abundant fulness !" 

All this alarmed his kind friend so much, that, though 
in delicate health herself, she determined to risk a winter's 
journey to Tubingen, to know personally how he was. By 
this time he had returned to the inn, from lodgings which 
he had for a few weeks occupied. In reply to her letter, 
announcing to him her determination to visit him, he 
thus writes : — 

" January 27. 

44 My very very dear Friend, — I received your note 
this forenoon, and cannot delay replying to it. Filially, 
humbly, but imperatively, you must not come. And I will 
tell you why : First, nothing further could be done for 
me than is done. The landlord shows me every atten- 
tion ; has given me outer windows — a screen for my bed, 
&c. His mother, who superintends the house, pays me 
frequent visits to know what I would like. My other 
friends care for me not only spiritually, but even in other 
little matters that go to the heart, and make me think I 
have fallen among the Christians of the first century. 
Next, your visit would so excite me by its extraordinary 
kindness, that I know I should suffer for it. I should be 
tempted also to speak too much (as I am every day), and 
this is injurious ; and I could not hinder myself from en- 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



389 



deavourmg to act as a strong man, and show you all the 
attention in my power. I have put those reasons first, 
because they will have most weight with you ; but what 
shall I say about my anxiety, should you, who are by no 
means strong, and now somewhat unused to travel, under- 
take a journey over those bleak hills, and thus, and in an 
inn, run many risks ? I should not feel at ease for weeks 
after, even should you escape immediate harm. And yon 
know your first duty is by no means for me ; but for the 
many to whom you have been so long another mother. I 
know you will pardon my frankness, perhaps presumption, 
in thus writing ; but my feelings are those of profound 
respect. After long waiting, I had a letter from my dear 
mother, and, of course, the son and not she was at fault. 
They send me some letters from the post ; but only now 
and then the Poste Eestante ones, so that it had lain there 
nearly a week, while I was unable to go out. It was 
written exactly on my birthday, the 9th. This letter 
opens up to me the probable leadings of God's providence. 
She is very anxious that my sister could perhaps with me 
pass this summer abroad. I am not sure that she does 
not include herself in the plan. She wishes me accord- 
ingly to come home in spring, and fetch her or them. 
This may perhaps be impossible ; but it will lead me 
gradually to speak of the cough, and how my strength is 
reduced by it ; and I think it will not be difficult to find 
another escort. Thus, unsought on my part, we shall 
come together. How happy should I be, did my strength 
permit me, to escort you home and them back ! but this is 
in God's hands. The doctor visited me lately, and after 
I had told him how I rarely slept at night, had violent 
perspirations, pains in all my upper man, and not the 
strength of a child, he still persisted, on my asking him 



390 



MEMORIALS OF 



the question, that it was nothing serious. I don't know 
what to think. Blessed be God ! if his encouragements 
be delusions, I am in no way dependent on them ; but on 
the will of Him whose I am, and who will do with me as 
seemeth to Him good, in perfect wisdom. Farewell ! 
Excuse the badness of the writing, but my hand shakes. 
The Lord reward you for a kindness which, in this last 
proposal, has almost overcome me." 

But in spite of all such persuasion to the contrary, Miss 
Hodges proceeded to Tubingen as she intended, and took 
up her residence in the same inn with the invalid. The 
morning after her arrival, he addressed to her, from his 
room, the last notes of his which I have to record : — 

u My very dear Friend, — I hope you have passed a 
good night, and are to-day refreshed. I hope also all your 
wants have been attended to. Through the goodness of 
G-od, I am to-day better than I have been for some time. 
My zenith is from half-past ten or eleven till one o'clock, 
when I should like to be with you ; but if you plan 
going out during part of that time, let me on no account 
be a hindrance. Perhaps you will let me dine beside you 
to-day. 

" My heart is full of praise, if it be not a treacherous 
heart ; and oh ! what am I, that the Lord's people should 
concern themselves with me ? Bless the Lord, my soul ; 
and all that is within me, bless His holy name ! — Your 
affection ate and deeply grateful, J. M. 

" P.S. — I fear I cannot come to you ; but perhaps you 
will venture to come to me. We need not speak much. 
You were to have had tea, Carl Eieger said. If you have 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



391 



not yet had it, perhaps you will take it in my room, and 
I will see to all your wants." 



The Diary which had been faithfully kept for so many 
years, now ends on Saturday, December 21. Its last 
entry is a prayer, recorded on many a preceding page, 
and which was soon to be answered, as it had never been 
before, nor could ever indeed be in this world : — 

" The Lord lift up the light of His countenance upon 
me!" 



392 



MEMORIALS OF 



CHAPTER XV. 

JOHN MACKINTOSH'S FRIENDS IN SCOTLAND HEAR OF HIS DANGER — 
THEY JOIN HIM AT TUBINGEN DARKNESS AND LIGHT HE IS RE- 
MOVED TO CANSTADT — LIFE AT CANSTADT — LAST DAYS — DEATH — 
BURIAL. 

Upon Thursday the 5th of February a letter was re- 
ceived at Laurel Bank, informing Mrs. Mackintosh that 
her son had been seriously ill for some months, and was 
now rapidly dying ! 

The accuracy of this intelligence, so sad and unex- 
pected, could not be doubted. The letter had been 
written from Tubingen by one of John's most intimate 
friends, who, with deep concern and alarm, seeing him 
daily becoming more feeble, took, very properly, upon 
himself the responsibility of communicating to Mrs. Mac- 
kintosh, through a correspondent in Scotland, what he had 
reason to fear his suffering fellow- student, from ignorance 
of his danger, had too long concealed. 

The day after this information was received, Mrs. Mac- 
kintosh and her daughter, accompanied by their relative, 
Mr. Strong, started for Tubingen. I resolved also to 
visit him, though the time which then seemed at my dis- 
posal would only permit of my being with him for a day 
or two. But if he was dying, I might thus see him ere 



JOHN MACKINTOSH, 



393 



he died ; and though one day only could be passed in his 
society, such days we all feel become to us years, and 
form a portion of our after lives. In the event of his 
being able to journey home, I might be of use. 

I left, accordingly, for Tubingen upon Tuesday even- 
ing, the 11th, in good hope, I confess, that while there 
must have been from his state of health much cause for 
anxiety, there possibly was not any for despair as to his 
ultimate recovery ; or surely his letter to me of so late 
a date as the 23d of January, would have contained some 
allusion to a condition so precarious. 

Pushing on, day and night, as rapidly as possible — yet 
delayed twenty-four hours by thick mist on the Rhine — 
I arrived at Tubingen at two on the morning of the 
17th. 

It was a clear frosty night. The full moon shone from 
a cloudless sky ; and the sound of my solitary steps alone 
was heard in the silent streets, as I made my way to the 
hotel to which I was directed. But where was John 
Mackintosh ? Was he still in the town ? Had his friends 
arrived? Maybe they had come, and departed again 
with their precious charge homewards^ or to the south ? 
Or, what if all was over ! 

On gaining admission to the hotel, I could not refrain 
from immediately asking the boy who half-asleep slowly 
undid the door — though my eager questionings seemed 
vain — " If he knew of any English gentleman, residing 
in Tubingen, who was in bad health ?" " Yes ; he knew 
Mr. Mackintosh/' " Was he still in town ?" " He was ; 
and two days ago his mother and sister, with a friend, 
had come to see him." " Where did he live ?" " Here." 
"Where! in the hotel?' 7 " Yes ; his room was up 
stairs I" In a few minutes I was standing in breathless 



394 



MEMORIALS OF 



silence at his door; and, with strange thoughts, heard 
his hollow cough within ! 

Next morning early, I saw Mrs. Mackintosh and her 
daughter, and found them alone ; Mr. Strong having 
been obliged to return to Edinburgh. They were in 
great distress. J ohn's case was worse even than they had 
anticipated ; and had been pronounced hopeless by the 
doctor, who also said that he had not many weeks to 
live. To add, moreover, to their sorrow, he had received 
them in the most unaccountable manner — with coldness, 
almost with sternness — as if irritated and annoyed by their 
presence ! 

A friend from Stuttgart, on the day previous to their 
arrival at Tubingen, had informed him of their coming. 
But it was several hours after they reached the hotel be- 
fore he would see them ! and then only after writing a 
note from his room, expressed in a tone utterly unlike 
himself; and when they did at last meet, the great 
change visible in his bodily appearance was not more 
striking and painful than in his manner to them both. 
They had seen very little of him since, and that only 
when specially invited to his room for a short time. 

Oh ! how strange for such an one thus to act at such a 
time, and to those he most loved on earth ! and of whose 
not coming to Wildbad, near Tubingen, he had written so 
lately in his Diary : " The road to Wildbad is henceforth 
for me gloomy and leading to gloom, and utterly unwalk- 
able !" Very mysterious all this was to us at the time ; 
and, to the lonely mourners, a deep and poignant sorrow ! 

What could be the meaning of this state of mind? 
Was it from a strong will, crossed in its plans, presumed 
to be wisely made — and not yet bending itself to a higher 
will? Was it nervous fear, lest the quiet and repose 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



395 



which he deemed necessary for his recovery might be 
broken in upon ? Was it a morbid state of mind occa- 
sioned by his struggles, alone and in silence, for life, 
against the slow but sure progress of overpowering weak- 
ness and decay ? Or was it not possible that Satan might 
thus tempt or torment him ere the last and final victory 
of the Christian was achieved ! 

These and many similar perplexing thoughts passed in 
rapid succession through my mind, as I listened to the sad 
details of the two previous days, since those sufferers had 
met at Tubingen. And I cannot pass over, as of no 
moment, things which at the time were so terribly real ; 
nor have I any wish to conceal from the reader, who has 
perused with interest these memorials of a good man's 
life, such a portion of it as this, merely because exhibit- 
ing a character in painful contrast to that of every other, 
and the very opposite of what all who knew John Mack- 
intosh best would have looked for in any circumstances, 
more especially in those, so peculiarly touching, in which 
he was now placed by the coming to him of his dear- 
est friends amidst common sorrows, heavy to be borne. 
But such times of real or apparent darkness and con- 
fusion, when they befall a Christian, have a teaching for 
others in like trials — it may be of warning and it may be 
of encouragement— as much as clays and years of unbroken 
sunshine can afford. 

I now longed the more to see my friend ; and accord- 
ingly wrote to him a note announcing my arrival, and 
asking when he would see me. I received an immediate 
reply — " Come now.'" 

When I entered his room, he was seated on a sofa 
reading, with a large screen between him and the door. 
Before him was his desk, and a table loaded with books. 



396 



MEMORIALS OP 



His chest was wrapped in a plaid ; his winter walking- 
coat, buttoned to his throat and ears, partially concealed 
his face ; his dark eyes, always so peculiarly mild and 
loving, flashed beneath his long black hair with an in- 
tense and painful lustre ; while his cheeks glowed with 
spots of crimson. 

The moment he saw me he smiled, and, stretching out 
both his arms, without rising from his seat, embraced and 
kissed me, while he breathed my name in a whisper 
scarcely audible ; then, after one or two remarks, he made 
a sign to me to be seated and to take a book, while he re- 
sumed his own, saying, " I am holding communion with 
God !" and so we both sat in silence. 

I soon made an excuse to leave the room, and I did so 
more perplexed than before, and thought for a moment 
that his mind was affected — all was so strange and un- 
natural. What was to be done ? There was one resource 
for us all — prayer ; but beyond that, all seemed dark ! 

During the afternoon when passing the dining-hall — for 
he dined and walked by himself — I watched him for a long- 
time as he sat, motionless as a statue, beside the large stove. 
By and bye I joined him, and, without alluding to his ill- 
ness, began to tell him home news, and to speak of our 
mutual friends whom I had lately met, and to recall scenes 
and stories of the olden time ; until, after an hour had thus 
passed, in which he had listened in silence but with evi- 
dent pleasure, he whispered, " How very strange is the 
power of mind on body ; if you had not been there telling 
me these things, I should have been sitting in torture and 
in prayer !" He then bade me leave him and return to 
him at a later hour, which he mentioned. I had found 
an entrance to him by the door, ever open in him, of old 
memories, and I was resolved to try others still more 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



397 



wide — his love to mother and sister, and his dutv to 
God. 

When we met again, at a later hour, I led the conver- 
sation to his state of health, and to the coming of his 
friends to see him, and the reception which they had met. 
I told him how, although he had tried, from the kindest 
possible motives, hitherto to coDceal his illness, and its 
history, from his mother, all was now perfectly known 
to her, and that she had made up her mind to the 
very worst, if such was God's will ; and how his illness 
was not such a pain to her as his apparent coldness and 
unsympathizing manner ; and then, appealing to his con- 
science, T pointed out how unworthy all this was of him as 
a son and Christian, and how totally different from what I 
had ever known or heard of him during his previous life ; 
and, as I spoke these and many other things, I saw his 
expression totally change, until at last he thanked me 
most warmly, saying that a weight had been taken off his 
spirit ; that he was greatly relieved and soothed ; for — 
to end this painful story — as I was afterwards informed by 
him, he was under the impression that his mother was yet 
in ignorance of his state, and he feared to agitate himself 
and her by the discovery ; that he thought himself in no 
immediate danger ; that consequently there was no neces- 
sity for any one to have written to his mother and sister, 
or for bringing them abroad to the hazard of their health 
during the inclement season of a German winter ; that he 
had believed perfect quiet essential to his recovery ; that, 
above all, he had an iron will, and when he had made 
up his mind to a thing, did not readily give it up, — that 
these and such-like ideas, working in a frail body, had in- 
deed most sinfully affected him. " But," he added, " my 
Master, who brought you all here, was more loving to me, 



398 



MEMOEIALS OF 



as He ever lias been, than I was to myself!" He soon 
after sent for his friend who had written to Scotland 
without his permission, and though he had before refused 
to see him for daring to take this liberty, he now kissed 
him and forgave him. We all met in his room for some 
hours the same evening : he seemed a different person. 
In spite of the pale and altered countenance, the old 
familiar look of gentleness and love had come again, and 
was beaming on us all, as he gazed in silence around him. 
I had brought Tennyson's In Memoriam with me, and he 
heard with delight some of its exquisite contents. Our 
conversation turned at last upon high themes— of heaven 
and the nature of its blessedness. Lest he should strain his 
lungs, and perhaps again cause hemorrhage, he spoke little, 
only in a whisper, and that to his sister, who happened to 
sit beside him on the sofa. Some allusion having been 
made to fears of death, his countenance brightened as he 
said with a smile, " I thank God I never had one. Oh ! to 
be with Jesus!" And then at another turn in the con- 
versation, when speaking of the happiness which would 
be derived from the society of the saints, and of Christian 
friends whom we had known and loved, and with whom 
we had laboured here ; he repeated the names of 
several whom he longed to see again : — " I shall meet 
my grandfather, aunt Kate, Mr. Graham Speirs, Dr. 
Chalmers, and all such dear friends." And so the 
evening passed in great sunshine and calm, and was 
concluded by prayer and praise. I selected a Psalm, 
which, in spite of trial, we now felt to be peculiarly 
appropriate — the 103d ; and, to link us still more with 
other days, with home, and scenes of peace, I " gave out 
the line" before singing it, and my tune was Coleshill ; 
for both psalm and tune, thus sung, are associated by 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



399 



eveiy member of the Scotch Church with seasons of holy 
communion, and never fail to summon up vivid pictures 
and undying memories from the past — of the old Church 
where he used to worship, and the churchyard where his 
dearest lie interred — with the once familiar faces and 
forms of Christian friends now no more ; and to recall also 
periods of his life in which perhaps, more than in any 
other, he enjoyed fellowship with God. It was, indeed, a 
tranquil meeting, and when it was over he asked me to 
remain with him alone ; and then he poured out his heart, 
and said how much he was soothed, and, in his own 
humble and loving way, expressed his gratitude and joy 
at having us with him ; his immense relief, too, in know- 
ing that his mother and sister were fully prepared for 
whatever might happen to him, in God's providence, and 
that they were so calm and resigned. 

Thus the day, whose morning was so dark and troubled, 
ended in an evening of heavenly serenity and peace ; and 
all our hearts were very full as we retired to rest indeed, 
acknowledging the good hand of our God upon us, and 
committing the future to His care. 

The next two days spent at Tubingen were days of 
continued and increasing peace. 

It had been suggested by the invalid himself some 
time before, but was now, with the doctor's consent, 
resolved upon, to remove without delay to the more genial 
climate, and still pleasanter residence of Canstadt. 

Canst adt is a small town about two miles from Stutt- 
gart, and so connected with it by the public park which 
unites them, that it almost forms a suburb to the capital. 
It is beautifully situated upon the banks of the Xeckar, 
now beginning to assume that importance which it pos- 
sesses as a river, when, further on in its course, it passes 



400 



MEMORIALS OF 



beneath the shadow of Heidelberg. The immediate 
neighbourhood is quite a garden, with waving fields of 
corn and picturesquely-grouped hills, covered with vine- 
yards, and everywhere pushing their promontories, tufted 
with orchards, into narrow flat valleys, and strips of rich 
intervening plains ; while the whole landscape is marked 
and enlivened by white villages, and church spires " that 
point as with a silent finger to heaven." Though in 
summer the abundant mineral springs and tepid waters, 
which, from about thirty different sources, bubble up 
around the town, attract many invalids from all lands, and 
its rural walks make it a favourite resort for the popula- 
tion of Stuttgart ; yet in winter the " Brunnen " are 
almost deserted, and the quiet of the town is undis- 
turbed. 

There is frequent mention in John's Diary of walks 
to Canstadt. Thus he wrote when at Stuttgart : — 

" Sept. 3. — Walk through the park to Canstadt ; came 
upon it ere I expected, and greeted my old friend, the 
Neckar. Stood upon the bridge thinking of plans, and 
totally uncertain of what I am to do. But unto Thee, 
Lord, do I lift up my soul ; I am Thine, guide me!" 

And again : — 

" Sept. 17. — To Canstadt, to call, with Neething, a 
Hollander from the Cape, on Dr. Schmidt. The day 
was sublime ; but it was often trying to speak vehemently 
in a strange tongue, instead of gloating over and meditat- 
ing upon the beauties of nature. We found the Doctor 
at the Brunnen, and walked up the hill ; had a ravishing 
view of the Neckar valley, glorified by the matchless 
sun and light. On my return home, felt a strong desire 
to change my abode for Canstadt. The Lord guide 
me!" 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



401 



With these pleasing associations thrown around this 
spot, he was now more anxious than ever to make it his 
residence. 

Airy rooms, in a wide halt- built street, with only a few 
houses in it, were fortunately secured, and prepared for us 
by the unwearied kindness of Miss Hodges. Dr. J. of 
Stuttgart came to Tubingen to accompany the invalid 
on his journey. All the books of the student were packed 
by his sister at his own request, "to remind him," as he 
said, " of days of yore " — for she used to do this for him 
the night before he left Geddes for school or college, after 
the summer's vacation was oyer. 

Many friends called to say farewell ; and among these, 
the excellent Hoffman, whose yisits then and afterwards 
were always peculiarly refreshing. 

The eyening before John's departure, when exhausted 
by these last demands made upon both mind and body, 
he said to me, " I begin now to feel that I cannot last 
long ; but as my day is, so shall my strength be." 

The weather was lovely for the season of the year ; the 
sky cloudless ; the air dry and bracing ; the ground with- 
out snow, and crisp with frost. 

On the morning of Thursday the 20th, eyerything 
being ready, and the carriages at the door, several stu- 
dents assembled to bid him again farewell, and gathered 
round him with affectionate greetings, when, weak and 
tottering, but smiling and cheerful, he descended from his 
room. All the servants of the hotel, as well as the kind 
landlady, were also there — not from any selfish motiyes, 
but with such signs of grief on their countenances, as 
betokened singular interest in the sufferer. Henry, the 
boy, who had attended him, was in floods of tears ; and 
eyen Eieka, the poor woman whose only work was the 

2 c 



402 



MEMORIALS OF 



lowest drudgery about the house, and who used to feed 
his stove with fuel, was present, and while humbly keep- 
ing in the background, covered her face with her apron 
as she sobbed aloud : for during his sojourn in the hotel, 
he had been kind and considerate to them all ; giving 
lessons in English to one ; a Bible to another ; and on 
every fitting occasion speaking lovingly to them, as a 
brother, of the good which was for them in Christ Jesus. 
And so when he noticed each at parting, and the carriage 
drove off, they felt that a friend had left them, and they 
truly sorrowed because " they should see his face no more." 

He bore the fatigue of the long journey with great 
patience ; and in the evening once more crossed the 
bridge of Canstadt, on which he had stood in September, 
" totally uncertain," as he then wrote, about his future 
plans, but trusting God for guidance. 

His new lodgings pleased him much. As he paced 
through them, and looked from their windows to the quiet 
scene without, he remarked with an expression of great 
gratitude, u How sweet this place is ! how good God is !" 

His bedroom was conveniently situated between mine 
and our common sitting apartment, having a communica- 
tion with both. It was soon set in order under his own 
minute directions. The books were unpacked, and with 
desk, thermometers, watch, MS. note-books, &c, were 
systematically arranged upon his table — each thing in 
the same relative position which it occupied on his table 
at Tubingen, and probably when in Eome also. 

The routine of his daily life at Canstadt, until very 
shortly before it ended, was this : — he rose generally 
about seven o'clock ; breakfasted by himself immediately 
after dressing ; and until ten o'clock, when our morning 
meal, with family worship, was past, he was left undis- 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



403 



turbed to his own private devotions. We then sat beside 
him, conversing or reading to him — perhaps the English 
newspapers, or from some favourite author — until half- 
past twelve, when he dined. After dinner he walked with 
me for half an hour or an hour. The greater part of 
the afternoon and evening we usually spent all together, 
occupied as in the morning, with conversation, reading 
aloud, or listening to music ; while he generally sat 
in a large arm-chair, or on the edge of his bed, with 
his forehead resting on the back of a chair, and his 
chest wrapped in a tartan plaid. The day was always 
concluded by our meeting in his room for reading the 
Scriptures, praise, and prayer. He very often selected 
the chapters or the psalm, and never failed to add his 
hearty amen to my prayer, and to breathe a few words of 
blessing in the ears of each as we parted from him for 
the night. 

To these ordinary events of his everyday life, may be 
added the many kind visits of Christian friends — such 
as the excellent Pastor Verner, who lived in our imme- 
diate neighbourhood : Dr. Hoffman occasionally, with 
other acquaintances from Tubingen and Stuttgart. I 
need hardly say Miss Hodges was one of his most fre- 
quent visitors, and was ever heartily welcomed by us ail. 

But there were features of his inner life and character 
which marked the history of those days, whose outer in- 
cidents were little varied, making them memorable to us 
who were with him, and leaving undying impressions, 
which I feel it almost impossible to convey by words to 
others. 

Very remarkable was the meek spirit with which he 
acquiesced in God's appointments regarding him. Im- 
mediately, for example, on his arrival at Canstadt, he 



404 



MEMORIALS OF 



requested Dr. J. to examine his chest with care. The 
doctor called, while he was, as usual, reading in the 
morning his Greek Testament. A few minutes after the 
examination was over — but not before I heard privately 
from Dr. J. how his worst fears of his case were realized 
— John summoned me to his room, and beckoning me 
to sit down beside him, quietly asked me, in his usual 
half whisper, if I had heard the doctor's report. Having 
replied in the affirmative, I inquired whether the results 
of his examination were such as he had anticipated ? 
"No," he said, speaking slowly, and with some effort, 
" much worse. I thought that maybe the coating alone of 
my lungs had been affected, although the great pain and 
weakness which I have experienced might have led me to 
suspect something more was wrong. But even with the 
lungs themselves touched, I thought it possible for me to 
have lasted till autumn, when, if I could not have re- 
turned home, it was my intention to have then sent for 
my mother and sister ; but the doctor tells me to-day that 
one lung is quite gone and the other almost, so that I 
cannot live months, probably not many weeks. It is 
therefore now certain," he continued, " that when you 
leave me, we shall never meet again in this world. But 
I am sure God's grace will be sufficient for you — for 
my mother — for my sister — for us all ; and that we 
shall all be united in heaven." Then adding emphati- 
cally, " But God is my portion. His own sweet will be 
done ! It is the will of a Father. It is a Father's hand 
that sends this, and when I go, He will take me." 

His Greek Testament, laid aside when the doctor en- 
tered, was then resumed, and everything went on as before ; 
and he did not again allude to this morning's interview ; 
nor was his wonted cheerfulness for a moment disturbed 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



405 



by the knowledge that his life was surely drawing rapidly 
to a close. Not many days after this, when returning 
from a short walk on a sunny forenoon, he found, to his 
surprise, that his strength had so much failed him, as to 
make it necessary for me to take him in my arms and 
carry him up stairs. Bat no murmur escaped his lips, in 
thus parting from that outer world which he had always 
enjoyed with such intense relish. He only said : " It is 
likely that I shall never walk out more." In this meek 
and quiet spirit, and with few words, he accepted his cross, 
met every change in his complaint, bore every additional 
weight of suffering, and parted from all that was most 
dear to him. 

One evening, again, when he and I were alone, our 
conversation turned upon the mystery, to us, of those pro- 
vidential dispensations by which God often lays aside for 
a time His most active and useful servants — as when 
Paul was confined again and again to prison, with a world 
to enlighten — or when by death God suddenly removes 
them, and prevents them from doing the work here for 
which their whole previous life seemed but a preparation. 
We then spoke of the honour and privilege of labouring 
for Christ in this present world of temptation and suffer- 
ing. " The penitent thief, 7 ' he said, " did nothing meri- 
torious — he only believed. But to labour for Christ as 
one reconciled — to labour as a privilege ! — the thought, I 
confess, humbles me. I have done nothing for Him." 
"But," he added, "I have never charged myself with 
sin for not having entered sooner upon my ministerial 
career. My Master has never given me to see my con- 
duct in that respect to have been wrong. I was unfit!" 
" I am not sure," I replied, " if that was the reason ; but 
I believe you yielded yourself to God to be led by Him, 



406 



MEMORIALS OF 



as seemed good to Himself, and I rejoice that you do not 
regret your delay, and that no repentance on this score 
stains your soul's fair peace.' ' " It never does— no, never ! . " 
And thus he was able to resign with meekness the long 
cherished hope of labouring in his Master's kingdom. 
This blessed disposition, always manifested by him, was 
not more remarkable than the unvarying peace of mind 
which he enjoyed in spite of constant pain ; and also the 
sunny cheerfulness which, without a cloud, daily played 
around him. I once asked him — what, if true, no one 
could perhaps have discovered — whether the weakness and 
unceasing pain of body did not necessarily so far affect 
his mind as sometimes to produce, apparently without a 
cause, darkness and depression ? " No," was his reply, 
u I have constant peace. Not always much feeling ; but 
I can always cling to Christ, and to the truth that He 
died for me ; while often, often, bright beams of light 
and love come to my spirit from Him!" So perfectly 
calm was he, that the approach of death, made now cer- 
tain to him for the first time by the judgment of a physi- 
cian, did not, as I have already said, produce the least 
change even in those daily arrangements of study which 
he had formerly made, in the hope of continued, at least 
of prolonged life. He rose at his usual hour ; read the 
same books, and in the same methodical order as hereto- 
fore. And so fresh were his literary tastes till the last, 
that a week before his death he sent for a German volume 
then newly published — the Life of Mercklin, by Strauss ; 
and listened, till the night before he died, with unabated 
interest to chapter after chapter, read aloud by his sister 
or myself, until he ascertained the last phase of the 
writer's opinions; while he expressed his grief that it 
afforded no hopes of a change in him to a better mincl. 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



407 



Indeed, John Mackintosh had for so many years habi- 
tually spent every day as if it were his last, that now he 
could spend these his last days like any other. B One of 
his first requests, accordingly, when he knew that Can- 
stadt must be his home, was to procure a good pianoforte 
for his sister at Stuttgart ; and this having been obtained, 
music became a source of enjoyment throughout the day. 
But his music was not confined to what is termed "sacred." 
While the familiar psalm-tunes of Scotland were sung, 
and called forth many a happy response of " delicious !" 
" glorious I" and the beautiful hymns, too, of the German 
Church, with their solemn chants, were constantly repeated; 
yet as he sat alone in his own room — the door open — or 
paced slowly up and down, leaning on my arm, he asked 
for every piece of music he could think of — it might be 
a waltz, a passage from some of the operas, or more fre- 
quently from his favourites, Mendelsohn and Beethoven, 
which he admired for their own sake, but chiefly, as he 
said, because reminding him vividly of the olden time at 
Geddes. And there were well-known Scotch airs he 
always asked for, and never wearied hearing. Evening 
after evening, as he sat near the piano, with closed eyes, 
and head drooping on his breast, he listened in silence, 
as he dreamt of other days, to the pathetic melodies of 
" Wanderin' Willie," "Auld Eobin Gray," "the Flowers 
o' the Forest," or "the Land o' the Leal." 

With all this, there was no excitement. His whole 
bearing was singularly manly and dignified. He never 
spoke of himself, or of his feelings, mental or bodily, ex- 
cept, perhaps, when one of us happened to be alone with 
him, and some circumstance, or inquiry on our part, led 
him to break through 

" The silence and the awful modesties of sorrow !" 



408 



MEMORIALS OF 



Thus his sister said to him one evening, " You look 
happy to-night, dear." " Yes, my pet," he replied, u I 
always am — for I can lay myself as a little child at the 
feet of Jesus.' 7 A few mornings before his death, and 
after a night of severe suffering, he complained to her 
of much weakness, remarking that he had never felt so 
before ; but added, " I am very peaceful and happy." 
The same forenoon he said again to me : "I never felt as 
I now do. But, oh ! what a Saviour I have ! He does 
far more for me than I can ask." And for the first time 
since Ave met, he was overcome, and wept. 

He never alluded, except indirectly, to his coming 
death — from his extreme considerateness for the feelings 
of others. Sometimes he let us read his thoughts by the 
passages of Scripture, the psalm, or hymn, which he 
selected for our evening readings ; as when he made me 
read the chapter on the Resurrection in Corinthians ; the 
description of heaven in the 7th chapter of Revelation ; 
or the well-known hymn — 

" The hour of my departure's come;" 

asking me to repeat twice over the verse beginning — 

" I leave the world without a tear, 
Save for the friends I hold so dear !" 

When some verse, or passage of Scripture, was read, 
peculiarly appropriate to his state, occasionally he made a 
passing remark. "Read those verses over again, and 
again," he said of some of the verses in the 14th chapter 
of John, which I had just read aloud at evening worship, 
adding, when I had concluded them, — " Oh, precious ! I 
suffer much ; but, oh, the glory that is to be revealed ! 
Ours is a light affliction !" It was in the middle of that 
same night, that I went to his bedside, hearing him 
coughing much. I found slight symptoms of hemorrhage. 



JOHN MACKINTOSH 



409 



•* Remember," he said, "I am not afraid or nervous about 
this : if it was not for my mother and friends, how much 
better to be with Jesus !" 

One allusion which he made to the future was to me 
peculiarly touching. The old ballad of " The Battle of 
Otterbourne " had been a great favourite of ours, and 
often repeated by us in other years, though not re- 
called during those last weeks of sadder intercourse. 
But after undressing him. and just before saying good- 
night, he took me by the hand, and — 

" Still in more than ear-deep" seats 
Survives for me, and cannot but survive. 
The tone of voice which wedded borrow'd words 
To sadness. . . . 
. . . When, with faint smile, 
Forced by intent to take from speech its edge," — 

he repeated, with peculiar pathos, from the ballad, the 
last words of the dying Douglas : — 

" 3Jy wound i* deep , I fain would sleep ; 
Take thou the vanguard of the three, 
And hide me by the braken bush 
That grows on yonder lilye lee. 

bury me by the braken bush, 
Beneath the blooming brier, 
Let never living mortal ken 
That ere a kindly Scot lies here \" 

In this manner, and on such rare occasions only, did 
he speak of his death. 

In recalling those days at Canstadt I cannot remember 
a single instance of selfishness, in word or deed, shown 
by John Mackintosh, which for a moment darkened the 
sunshine of gentle love in which he lived and moved. As 
far as unceasing pain would permit, he seemed entirely 
to forget himself and his sufferings, in his unwearying 



410 



MEMORIALS OF 



though tfulness about others. This was seen in his in- 
numerable little acts of considerateness about everything 
which might please or contribute to the happiness of those 
around him, or in any way lighten that burden which 
his state could not but impose upon them, however cheer- 
fully borne by them ; and the same feeling was constantly 
manifested in the kind expressions with which he received 
those attentions which he necessarily required, but never 
in any degree exacted. 

I cannot help relating here a characteristic instance of 
his unselfish thoughtfulness about others. " Go to Stutt- 
gart," he said one day to me, and handing me a list of 
things worth seeing, which he had noted down in pencil, 
added, " Now be sure and see those things, and tell 
me all about them. Call also at NefFs, the bookseller, 
and ask him for the parcel I left with him, and bring it to 
me ; till then I won't tell you what it is." On asking 
the bookseller for the said parcel, I was told that Mr. 
Mackintosh had given such particular orders about its 
delivery, that without a written order he was pledged not 
to give it up to any one, and give it up to me he would 
not ! The written order having been obtained, to satisfy 
the conscientious bookseller, the parcel was brought down 
upon a subsequent day ; and proved to be Vasis' large 
panoramic view of Eome, which John, in spite of weak- 
ness and weariness had, as I find in his Diary, " hunted 
Eome" to obtain for me the day before leaving it, and 
had carried with no small inconvenience during all his 
journey north w r ard, and now presented himself,, "to be 
hung up in my study ! " There it now hangs, the memento 
of a kindness which ever busied itself how to gratify 
others, and which I have never seen equalled. 

Till the last moment of his life he embraced every 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



411 



opportunity of doing good by fitting words of counsel or of 
comfort. There were different periods in the day which 
were generally chosen by him for seeing each of us alone, 
as this was less fatiguing than always having us together. 
For instance, he sent for his mother first after breakfast ; 
then for his sister ; while tbe night-time was my peculiar 
portion. On such occasions he became more personal and 
earnest in his communications. 

One night, for example, when all had retired to bed, I 
was with him alone ; when, sitting with his hands clasped 
upon his knees, his eyes shut, and his head bent forward, 
he thus addressed me in short sentences — spoken under 
breath, uttered slowly, and very solemnly : — ' ; Humble 
yourself as a little child. Follow your Master — do not 
go before. Pray, pray, pray without ceasing ; wrestle in 
prayer with God. Our natural temperament cannot be 
destroyed, it must be regulated. Walk in the Spirit, that 
will do it. 4 If any one will follow me/ says our Lord, 
' let him take up his cross daily J ' Be holy, for I am 
holy.' Oh ! it is not easy to realize the life of God in us 
all the day." " Have you been able to do it ?" I asked. 
He nodded and smiled. " It was long with me," he 
replied, " a fearful battle. With every one it is a sore 
battle at first. But it must be done ; and when done," 
he added, opening his eyes and with an expression of joy, 
"it is inexpressibly — inexpressibly delightful!" ' ; We 
should have our house," he continued, after a pause, 
" well ordered before God. Everything in it should as 
much as possible reflect heaven ; for heaven must in 
everything begin here. We should esteem in our house 
the Bible as the best, the sweetest book. I love the cus- 
tom, in pious families in Wiirtemberg, of reading it after 
dinner. We must daily live above carnal joys. The 



412 



MEMORIALS OF 



Spirit of God must pervade everything, that we may 1 ve 
holy, live calmly, and" — -again opening his eyes and 
speaking emphatically — "live cheerfully. When disposed 
to exceed in anything, we should pause and ask such 
questions as these: — Will this please God? Will it 
grieve the Spirit, of God that dwelleth in me ? the bles- 
sedness of the divine life !" " How think you shall it be 
best attained ?" I asked. " I should say, begin soon with 
prayer. Let your first thoughts in bed be given to God. 
When you rise, kneel down and humble yourself before 
God as a child, that He may lead you all the day long. 
Think of God when you are dressing. After that, read, 
meditate, and pray. Prayer should never be put off till 
after breakfast." Then rising up in his chair, looking 
with great earnestness, and speaking with energy, he said, 
" This I have found to be of inexpressible importance. If 
our devotions are deferred "till the interruptions of the fore- 
noon, the devil may get on our back, and ride us all 
day!" "I love," he added, "to give God my first, my 
clearest, my freshest thoughts and hours." On asking 
him more particularly as to his own method of devotion, 
he said, " I commune with God through His Word and 
Spirit. I do not on such occasions read critically. If 
difficulties present themselves, in the meantime I pass 
them by. When any verse occurs which is peculiarly 
suitable to myself, I dwell upon it. As I read, I cry con- 
stantly to God for His Spirit. After that I pray at 
length. I have no prescribed time ; but try and enjoy it 
as long as possible. Last winter, in my reading, J con- 
fined myself to the three Gospels. I am now reading 
through John's Gospel. I have been living and feasting 
on the life of Christ." 

As I sat listening, in the deep silence of night, to those 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



413 



utterances addressed to me by one who had lived the 
truth which he knew, and was now in perfect peace, 
going to meet Him whom he had long sought and served 
with so much earnestness and love, my spirit felt no less 
than awed before him ; and what he then spoke to me, I 
that same night wrote down, that when perusing it, if 
spared to do so, in future years, it might quicken me to 
greater diligence in following his steps ; and as the words 
were then written, so are they now given to the world, that 
others may learn of him, and know how true and good he 
was, and by what means his rare excellence was attained, 
and his great peace enjoyed, and thus be encouraged to 
exercise a like patience and self-denial in seeking their 
eternal good, and a like simple faith in Jesus Christ, as 
indeed the living Saviour — the all-sufficient One, who 
will ever prove the life, the strength, and the peace of all 
who truly know Him. 

In this same spirit of seeking to benefit others, he 
often addressed his sister, perhaps in a few words breathed 
into her ear, when bending over him to bid good-night. 
" Good-night, my pet. Seek God as a little child. Be 
humble. Speak to Jesus face to face." Or, " Be instant 
in prayer, dearie. Pray always for a broken spirit. See 
how infinitely above this world's joys Christ is. Persevere 
— fear not — God will do it" 

To his mother he spoke as a son, words of strength 
and comfort ; with humble acknowledgments of any de- 
fects in conduct he might have exhibited, when under her 
more immediate charge. He was fond also of hearing 
from her the most minute details of all the people about 
Geddes, especially those with whom he had enjoyed 
Christian fellowship. 

The arrival of the post was always welcome, as bringing 



414 



MEMORIALS OF 



letters from friends, and news of home. He also wrote to 
several of his old correspondents ; at first by scrolling 
himself a pencil copy of what he wished his sister to 
write for him ; and latterly, when his strength failed, by 
dictating to her. He mentioned also the names of many 
to whom he desired letters should be written, if he became 
so unwell as to be himself unfit for the discharge of this 
duty. These letters told all the same tale, of an illness 
which he knew must be fatal, and also of a peace which 
he knew nothing could ever take away ! 

I was now, alas ! obliged to part from my friend and 
to return to Scotland. When I left home, upon the 11th 
of February, I had little hope of being able to remain 
with him till the 11th of March — for I was then on the 
eve of removing from my former to my present charge. 
But the political difficulties which at that time hindered 
the formation of a ministry, and the appointment conse- 
quently of a Home Secretary, delayed also the issuing of 
my presentation, without which my translation could not 
take place ; and thus my sojourn abroad was extended to a 
period much longer than I could possibly have anticipated. 
But letters received from home now seemed to demand 
my immediate presence ; yet they placed me in trying 
circumstances, in which it was not easy to decide between 
conflicting duties and conflicting feelings. I resolved to 
refer my case to my friend, well knowing how wisely and 
unselfishly he would advise me. The day after I did 
so, he called me to him, and said, "I have thought 
calmly and prayerfully over all you have told me ; my 
verdict is, go! If I thought that my end was near, I 
would as decidedly say stay, that you might be with me 
to the last. But I think it probable that I may live for 
a month yet. So we must part now. Then, besides 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



415 



your arrangements about Glasgow, your people in Dal- 
keith may require you. There may be sick ones wish- 
ing to see you ; your sister is alone/' &c. &c. Then, 
after saying some loving things about the time we 
had spent together, he added: " The Spirit of God, the 
Teacher and Comforter, is with me. You know now all 
my feelings, and just act with a good conscience." I saw 
Dr. J, upon the 10th, and he also said that it was quite 
possible he might yet live several weeks, and that cer- 
tainly he did not think him near death. As I could not, 
therefore, "with a good conscience," remain so long as to 
have the satisfaction of being with him and his family 
£< to the last," I resolved to leave him early on the morn- 
ing of the 11th. 

The evening before, he seemed to have considerably 
revived. He had been able, but not without much effort, 
prompted by love to others, to sit several times during 
the previous days to an artist for his likeness. This 
last day he had enjoyed music and reading, and we met 
as usual in his room for family devotion, feeling indeed 
that we should never again all praise God together in 
this world. But in the middle of the night he suf- 
fered so much from his harassing cough, that I sat beside 
him, and remained with him till morning. In reply to 
my inquiries when I entered his room, he said, " I have 
endured agonies of body for the last two hours ; but they 
have not affected my spirit — I have perfect peace. Could 
I sing, I would sing, 1 Glory to God V" He then asked 
me to read some hymns and passages of Scripture to him 
from time to time, and also to pray with him. And thus 
the night passed ; and the morning came ; and soon six 
o'clock struck — the hour at which I must leave him. Of 
our parting, I shall not speak. But I little thought at 



416 



MEMORIALS OF 



the time that God had graciously permitted me to begin 
with him his last day upon earth ! 

I left him in charge of Jane Miller, Mrs. Mackintosh's 
old and valued attendant, who had accompanied her on 
her journey ; and who, when at Geddes, had almost in- 
deed been the sick-nurse of Mr. Mackintosh during his 
last illness. 

Miller found him very restless ; nor could she by the 
unwearied application of the prescribed remedies afford 
any ease to his oppressed chest and pained body, which 
" suffered everywhere." He asked her to read hymns and 
texts of Scripture to strengthen him ; and afterwards in- 
quired much about his father : — " Did he suffer much ? 
As much as he did ? Was he as impatient as he was ? 
Did he bear pain better?" &c. 

His mother and sister came to him early. At break- 
fast-time, he was able to take some food. His uneasiness 
continued. As he leant his head upon the back of a 
chair, on which he asked his mother to sit to be near him, 
he repeated often the earnest prayer, " Lord, not my will 
— not my will — but Thine be done !" 

A letter to him from his friend Professor Forbes, was 
delivered by the forenoon post. He expressed a wish to 
have it read imniecliately, and was cheered by its contents. 
It was the last he ever received. 

Miss Hodges arrived about midday ; and soon after, 
his oppression in breathing becoming very severe, they 
began for the first time to think that death was near. 
Miss Hodges said to him, " Jesus is always with you." 
" Sometimes," he replied. But as she repeated a few 
texts of Scripture, and prayed at his request, a gleam of 
joy, remarked by all, lighted up his countenance, as, with 
shut eyes and clasped hand, he smiled, nodding assent to 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 417 

each uttered truth. He asked the window to be opened, 
and tottering to it in his dressing-gown, had his chair 
so placed as to be able to extend his arm into the open 
air. It was a day of great beauty. The sun shone 
brightly, and with almost a summer heat ; and already 
the sounds of spring were heard from the birds in the 
surrounding orchards. The same oppression returned 
later in the afternoon, in a still more aggravated form. 
Dr. J., who had been sent for, made him immediately 
return to bed, and did everything that skill could suggest 
to relieve him ; but was soon obliged to inform his friends 
apart, that his end was fast approaching. He lay in 
silence upon his bed with his eyes shut, and, in silence, 
ail stood around him. About four o'clock, he opened his 
eyes, and motioned to his mother first, to come near him 
and kiss him. His sister came next, and he said to her, 
"Love Jesus."' And after this, he bade each farewell, 
and to each repeated the same counsel, "Love Jesus." 
"Any one else in the room?" he asked. Marie, the 
kind daughter of the landlady, approached, weeping bit- 
terly. He thanked her for all her goodness to him during 
his illness, and requested that she should send her mother 
and sisters up stairs to bid him farewell. They came, and 
he spoke kindly to them. Having motioned to his sister 
to sit beside him, he drew her to him, again kissed her, 
and began to speak to her ; but his lips were cold, and she 
required to put her ear almost to his mouth to hear what 
he said. But so calm and self-possessed was he, that he 
gave her directions even then as to how she might get 
his portmanteau which he had forwarded to Berlin when 
he intended to have gone there to study ; and told her 
where in it she should find the key of his desk at home, 
in which his will was deposited. He then requested 

2d 



418 



MEMORIALS OF 



to know how much she proposed to give the doctor, 
and mentioned a sum which he thought generous and 
becoming. Then beckoning to the doctor, he thanked 
him for his great attention, and begged him to tell him 
truly how long he thought he had to live. The doctor 
replied, " Perhaps not many minutes." After a pause, he 
began to repeat the names of his near relatives — u Jane ; 
Alick ; Chris ; J ames ; Ned Smith ; uncle ; my aunts ; 
Tom. Tell them all to seek Jesus." Then, in the same 
way, he enumerated his old friends : " The Professor ; 
Madden; Burn Murdoch; John Shairp ; Boyle; Dr. 
Duncan ; Charles Brown;" and others, whose names his 
sister could not distinctly catch. " All my friends at 
Tubingen," he added. He spoke about me also. Soon 
after, he said, " Read." Miss Hodges took up the 
Bible — for she deemed the task too trying for either 
his mother or sister. But he had told his mother some 
days before, that when it came to the last she was to 
read to him from a little book containing texts of 
Scripture selected for the sick and dying, and which he 
was in the habit of using ; and now, as if remembering 
this, the moment he heard the voice of Miss Hodges, he 
opened his eyes, and with earnestness, said, u No. My 
mother ! my mother !" She was strengthened to minister 
this comfort also to him. The last things read to him 
were the first two verses of the 43d chapter of Isaiah, 
the hymns — " The hour of my departure's come ; " " Hark, 
how the adoring hosts above ; " and the 23d Psalm. When 
these were ended, he said to his sister, u Bury me beside 
Chalmers ; " and after a short pause, "Jesus ! oh, Jesus !" 
He then lay again in silence, with a look of deepest 
calm and peace ; but spoke no more. Once only he 
opened his eyes, and gazed on all around him, as if bid- 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



419 



ding them farewell. The setting sun filled the room with 
a flood of light. At five o'clock, the church-bells were 
ringing their evening chimes ; and as they rang, he left 
his friends on earth, and met his Saviour. 

They knelt around that quiet bed ; and she who bore 
him was able to praise the Lord, who had redeemed him 
and taken him to Himself ! 

A few days after this, his remains, now in the metal 
coffin in which they were to repose in his own country, 
were conveyed — as the law in Germany required — from 
the private dwelling in which he died. Two or three 
German friends followed the bier to its temporary resting- 
place. Miss Hodges was one of them. They bore him 
to an old Lutheran Chapel, situated in a picturesque and 
sequestered spot in the immediate neighbourhood of Can- 
stadt, and which we had often admired. The weather 
still continued serene, and nothing could exceed the love- 
liness of that evening. As the small and unknown pro- 
cession moved along, an organ, somewhere in the town, 
was pealing out a solemn German hymn, and its echoes, 
borne upon the silent air, more or less faintly accom- 
panied the mourners on their way. When they reached 
the Chapel, the moon was dimly visible in the deep 
blue of the cloudless sky ; and, though the valley was 
in shadow, the last rays of a gorgeous sunset lighted up 
with a purple radiance the trees which crested the sur- 
rounding hills. 

The coffin was placed beneath the altar and the cross. 
Those who laid it there, before departing, stood for a 
short time around it, apparently engaged in prayer. 

Upon Sabbath evening, his mother and sister were en- 
abled, in great peace, to spend some time alone beside him. 



420 



MEMORIALS OF 



The same kind relative who had accompanied his 
aunt, Mrs. Mackintosh, when she went to Tubingen, now 
returned to Germany, and "brought the bereaved ones 
home. 

The 9th of April was the day of burial in Scotland. 
The funeral was a private one ; but permission to follow 
him to the tomb was cordially given, as requested by 
themselves, to some of his fellow-students of Divinity 
from the Free Church College ; and also to a few old 
friends — many of whose names he had uttered when 
dying, and which are familiar to the reader. 

This day of burial was also one of calm beauty, like 
those which had shone upon him at Canstadt. Arthur's 
Seat and Salisbury Crags, in the transparent air, appeared 
to look down upon us. We heard the lark singing over- 
head ; and all was bright and peaceful, as the com- 
panions and friends who loved and honoured him, slowly 
and silently carried him to his grave, and buried him 
" beside Chalmers." 

" His memory long will live alone 

In all our hearts, as mournful light 
That broods above the fallen sun, 
And dwells in heaven half the night. 

" Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace ! 
Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul, 
While the stars burn, the moons increase, 
And the great ages onward roll. 

** Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet, 
Nothing comes to thee new or strange ! 
Sleep full of rest from head to feet ; 
Lie still, dry dust, secure of change ! M 

A monument was soon after placed over his remains, 
having this inscription on it : — 



JOHN MACKINTOSH. 



421 



ERECTED 
BY HIS COMPANIONS AND FRIENDS 
TO THE MEMORY OP 

JOHN MACKINTOSH 

YOUNGEST SOX OF THE LATE 
WILLIAM MACKINTOSH OF GEDDES 

BORN 9TH JANUARY 1822 
DIED AT CANST ADT, IN GERMANY 
llTH MARCH 1851 
AND 

BURIED BY HIS DYING REQUEST 
NEAR THE GRAVE OF CHALMERS 
HIS REVERED INSTRUCTOR 

** An example of the believers, in word, 
in conversation, in charity, in spirit, 
in faith, in purity." 



APPENDIX. 



NOTES ON SCHOOLS IN STUTTGART. 

u I had often heard of the celebrity of the General School and 
Gymnasium system here pursued, and enjoyed a very long and 
ample opportunity of inspecting it in its several departments, 
and becoming conversant with its system and working. I shall 
endeavour, as far as my memory will permit me, to give you 
some of the results of my observation. I shall begin with the 
lowest step of what is a gradual and well-organized educational 
scale. I may premise that my observations were made at 
Stuttgart, where the system general throughout Wiirtemberg, 
is yet, as might be expected, best represented. And first the 
German or Folks' School. All children are obliged to attend 
school from the age of six, till fourteen. In these schools they 
learn their own tongue, writing, counting, geography, history, 
religious knowledge, and singing. These, so far as I remember, 
are the only things. The hours of attendance are from seven 
till ten, and one till three, so that the more advanced boys have 
ample time to be useful to their parents : the girls too learn 
sewing, knitting, and other useful qualifications. The holidays 
do not occupy more than two months in the year, at different 
periods. The education appeared to me to be very thorough, 
but, in most respects, not very different from our own, nor better 
than in our well-appointed schools. If the number, however, of 
the same standing exceeds thirty or forty, they have at once par- 
allel classes and parallel masters, to avoid too great a distribu- 
tion of interest. In the higher classes, one of the city ministers 
assists weekly in the religious instruction to prepare the children 
for Confirmation at fourteen, after which they are ushered into 



424 



APPENDIX. 



the world. So begins and so ends the education of the mass of 
the people, so that there is not one individual among them who 
cannot read and write, and who is not acquainted with the name 
of Jesus, and the truths of revelation. For those in a higher plat- 
form in society, is provided a separate training. Here, at six years, 
and it is again compulsory, the children are all sent to the Ele- 
mentary School, where, as its name implies, they are taught the 
elements of their future knowledge. On quitting the Elementary 
School at eight, a farther separation takes place, and this I think 
truly admirable. Those who mean to pursue merely mercantile 
or mechanical occupations, proceed to the Eeal, or, as we should 
perhaps say, Industrial School, where the whole organization is 
as thorough and perfect as that of which I shall next speak, 
pursuing the same immediate aim, of cultivating the intellectual 
powers, but as having a different mediate aim, employing different 
and more appropriate materials. Here, as indeed in all the 
schools, the mother tongue is carefully cultivated, not only in the 
development of its grammar, syntax, and, in the higher classes, 
the riches of its literature — but in frequent compositions criticized 
as vigorously as we do the dead languages. This then, I say, is 
common to all the schools, in all the various stages of progress, 
and is most worthy of attention. In the Eeal School, however, a 
living language takes the place of Latin and Greek. In Wiirtem- 
berg, it is French. This language is studied in all its minutiae, 
and has about as large a space of time assigned to it as is usual 
with us to Latin or Greek. In this manner the intellectual bene- 
fit is about the same, and in the end the tradesman or mechanic 
finds himself a citizen of two countries, possessed of a positive 
acquisition which he can employ and appreciate through life. 
The Real School is divided into a lower and an upper. In the 
former they must remain from eight to fourteen. In the upper 
it is optional with him, and the practice is usual to continue yet 
other two years. In the lower school, then, German, French, 
Arithmetic, Mathematics, History, Geography, Eeligious Know- 
ledge, and Singing, are the main branches of education. The 
number in each class is never allowed to exceed thirty, so that 
at Stuttgart there are generally three parallel classes for each 
year. In one of the lowest of these it is optional to learn some 
Latin, as girls learn it, to know the French roots. I may mention 



APPENDIX. 



425 



ere I forget it, that in ail the schools the children or boys sit 
habitually before desks, as in our writing-rooms— a sign how 
much composition is cultivated, and how early and universally 
they are initiated into the practice of taking notes. Another 
grand point pervading all the schools, which I may also mention 
here, is this, that no scholar is allowed to pass into a higher class, 
without passing, at the end of the previous year, a satisfactory 
examination, before the master of that class, in composition and 
some other leading subject. In the upper Real School the same 
subjects are continued, but the student, according to his destina- 
tion, has now a wider option. He may add English or Italian to 
his French. He may learn Bookkeeping, &c, for his profession. 
If, however, he is to be not a merchant, but a mechanic, an en- 
gineer, or an architect, he then studies the elements of Natural 
Philosophy, of Chemistry, Drawing, and the like, and pays special 
attention to Mathematics. All this prepares him to pass into 
the Polytechnic School, where the higher Mathematics, Design, 
Modelling, practical Mechanics, practical Mathematics, Archi- 
tecture, Chemistry, and the like, may be carried out for three, 
four, or five years, so that the students may leave this last at an 
age varying from nineteen to twenty-one. On paper these several 
stages may appear very intricate, but in reality they are most 
simple and most admirable. I well remember, for instance, how 
a friend of mine in Scotland, who was to be an engineer, was left 
to hunt out his various classes, and in some measure to bungle 
his education, while here the whole sequence is presented, directed 
by the best experience. But to return to the main steps of the 
ladder, and come to the highest, which, in point of fact, I visited 
first, I must introduce you to the Gymnasium. Hither come the 
other swarm of youth thrown off by the common Elementary- 
School. It too is divided into lower and upper. The former 
embracing those from eight to fourteen, the latter from four- 
teen to eighteen. Here you will at once perceive one of its leading 
advantages over our system. Those who are in a hurry to be done 
with their education, having been eliminated at the threshold — 
the status pupillaris, may be continued to the eighteenth year, when 
indeed the boyhood ceases, but not earlier than manhood usually 
begins. In point of fact, it embraces that all-critical transition- 
period, when so many of our youth, prematurely reckoned men, 



426 



APPENDIX. 



make shipwreck of themselves intellectually and morally for life. 
Its difficulties, which lie deep in the human nature, are not 
entirely overcome even by the Gymnasium system, but they are 
modified and controlled, so that intellectually and morally I 
believe the gain is great. In the Lower Gymnasium, German, 
Latin, Greek, History, Geography, Arithmetic, Mathematics, and 
Religious Knowledge, are the chief branches. In the four first of 
these, I was struck with the superior accuracy and scholarship, to 
what is common among us. First, as in all the classes of all the 
schools up to the age of fourteen, the same master teaches all the 
branches, and so each is invested with an equal dignity. Next, the 
masters are stationary, and so become more apt in their respective 
departments, while the student, with some disadvantages, obtains 
a wider and deeper range of knowledge, and has a certain new 
stimulus each year from a change of hands. Further, from the 
limited number and the examination before entering, the students 
are kept more together, and each feels himself more individually 
exercised. Thus, too, those long and dreary tracts of time devoted 
to general parsing and repetition, for the boobies are enabled to 
be divided, and what is given in its place ? — a real and scholarlike 
acquaintance with the idioms and niceties of the language. 
Furthermore, more abundant composition ; no dog-Latin or Greek 
is permitted — and I am ashamed to say that when I left the 
Academy, and to this day, I know no better (but this is a secret). 
First, you will understand that the teacher must be himself more 
than a mere grammar scholar, and second, he conveys this scholar- 
ship to his pupils by pointing out, on all occasions, the difference 
between the genius of his own language and the other, and mak- 
ing him in the class, from simple phrases upwards, furnish the equi- 
valent in the two tongues, and point out nice shades of meaning 
between nearly similar expressions and constructions. The amount 
of scholarship thus possessed, even by very young boys, made me 
blush. In Greek, from the commencement they not only write, 
but pronounce after the accents. In all the years of the Lower 
Gymnasium, they are confined to well-selected passages from 
various authors, and only in the Upper do they read them in the 
original. History, again, is never separated from Geography. 
Each student has his atlas before him as he studies the other. 
In the junior years, they amass facts, names, dates, &c, and very 



APPENDIX. 



427 



thoroughly, by being taught by the same master with classics. 
In the higher years, but in the Upper Gymnasium, it is more as 
Hannah proposes it — that is, periods are taken and more philo- 
sophically handled; but a general knowledge of the whole 
stream must and should be first there. what a blank is this 
in my dire experience ! Were I a teacher, I would so philo- 
sophize chiefly upon Greek and Eoman history. Our generation 
is the first that has it in its power to do so, and all the lessons 
and training may be learned there. Indeed, marvellous as is 
the influence of those ancient languages on our own, the in- 
fluence and analogy of their histoiy is far greater. With them, 
then, as the text and a knowledge of the facts of modern history 
to work upon, the philosophy, in its principles, and even in many 
of its details, may be pointed out for the whole stream. In the 
Upper Gymnasium, the Students' scholarship is carried up to 
Plato in Greek, and the highest works in Latin. He is thus 
prepared for the University. French he has begun in the 5th 
year of the Lower Gymnasium, and it is still carried on. English 
and Italian may now, however, be added. He also has it in his 
power to study Hebrew ; and Theologians must do so. But 
chiefly he is now taught in the two higher years the elements of 
Logic and of Moral Philosophy, and Church History is substituted 
for his previous Bible Knowledge. This, too, is a great advan- 
tage. In regard to the Religious Instruction, it is chiefly taken 
direct from the Scriptures, sometimes, in the higher classes, with 
the use of a systematized book. The problem is here, as with us, 
how to make the education moral and religious ; and the conclu- 
sion, as with us, seems to be that our leading and main point is the 
personal character and the personal influence on each pupil of 
the man himself. Where this is wanting, even Bible instruction 
may be perverted, and at all events become a burden instead of 
joy and health. After the final examination the student enters 
the University — but here I have little good to relate, and so drop 
the curtain. I fear I have given you a very incoherent and in- 
adequate picture of what occupied my eager and almost exclu- 
sive attention for nearly three weeks— but you will take the will 
for the deed." 



EDINBURGH : T. CONSTABLE, PRINTER TO HER MAJESTY. 



H 132 82 




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